tlifornia 
ional 

lity 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  Thing  Happened  Which  Struck  Awe  to  Every  Heart 


THE 
GOLDEN  SCORPION 

By 

SAX  ROHMER 


McKINLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1920 

by 
ROBERT  M.  McBRIDE   &   COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


CHAP.  .  PAGE 

I    The  Shadow  of  a  Cowl      .......  3 

II    The  Pibroch  of  the  M'Gregors  .....  8 

III  The  Scorpion's  Tail 17 

IV  Mademoiselle  Dorian 26 

V    The  Sealed  Envelope 34 

VI    The  Assistant  Commissioner 42 

VII    Contents  of  the  Sealed  Envelope  ....  49 

VIII    The  Assistant  Commissioner's  Theory    .     .  58 

IX    The  Chinese  Coin 66 

X    "Close  Your  Shutters  at  Night"     ....  71 

XI    The  Blue  Ray     .     , 76 

PART  II 

STATEMENT  OF  M.  GASTON  MAX 

I.    THE  DANCER  OF  MONTMARTRE 

I    Zara  el-Khala 87 

II    Concerning  the  Grand  Duke 95 

III    A  Strange  Question 104 

IV    The  Fight  in  the  Cafe 112 

II.    "LE  BALAFRE" 

I    I  Become  Charles  Malet 120 

II    Baiting  the  Trap .  128 

III  Disappearance  of  Charles  Malet     ....  138 

IV  I  Meet  an  Old  Acquaintance 145 

V    Conclusion  of  Statement 152 


580793 

r.ISRARf 


PART  III 

CHAP.  PAGE 

AT  THE  HOUSE  OF  AH-FANG-FU 

I    The  Brain  Thieves 163 

II    The  Red  Circle 172 

III  Miska's  Story 185 

IV  Miska's  Story  (concluded) 196. 

V    The  Heart  of  Chunda  Lai 207 

VI    The  Man  with  the  Scar 217 

VII    In  the  Opium  Den .     .  224 

VIII    The  Green-eyed  Joss 235 

PART  IV 

THE  LAIR  OF  THE  SCORPION 

I    The  Sublime  Order .  247 

II    The  Living  Death 263 

III  The  Fifth  Secret  of  Rache  Churan  ....  270 

IV  The  Guile  of  the  East 278 

V    What  Happened  to  Stuart 286 

VI    "Jey  Bhowani!" 294 

VII    The  Way  of  a  Scorpion    .    .     .-    ....  301 


PART  I 
THE  COWLED  MAN 


THE 
GOLDEN  SCORPION 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  SHADOW  OF  A  COWL 

KEPPEL  STUART,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S.,  awoke 
with  a  start  and  discovered  himself  to  be 
bathed  in  cold  perspiration.  The  moonlight 
shone  in  at  his  window,  but  did  not  touch  the  bed, 
therefore  his  awakening  could  not  be  due  to  this 
cause.  He  lay  for  some  time  listening  for  any  un- 
familiar noise  which  might  account  for  the  sudden 
disturbance  of  his  usually  sound  slumbers.  In  the 
house  below  nothing  stirred.  His  windows  were 
widely  open  and  he  could  detect  that  vague  drum- 
ming which  is  characteristic  of  midnight  London; 
sometimes,  too,  the  clashing  of  buffers  upon  some 
siding  of  the  Brighton  railway  where  shunting  was 
in  progress  and  occasional  siren  notes  from  the 
Thames.  Otherwise — nothing. 

He  glanced  at  the  luminous  disk  of  his  watch. 
The  hour  was  half -past  two.  Dawn  was  not  far 
off.  The  night  seemed  to  have  become  almost  in- 


4  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

tolerably  hot,  and  to  this  heat  Stuart  felt  disposed 
to  ascribe  both  his  awakening  and  also  a  feeling  of 
uncomfortable  tension  of  which  he  now  became 
aware.  He  continued  to  listen,  and,  listening  and 
hearing  nothing,  recognised  with  anger  that  he  was 
frightened.  A  sense  of  some  presence  oppressed 
him.  Someone  or  something  evil  was  near  him — 
perhaps  in  the  room,  veiled  by  the  shadows.  This 
uncanny  sensation  grew  more  and  more  marked. 

Stuart  sat  up  in  bed,  slowly  and  cautiously,  look- 
ing all  about  him.  He  remembered  to  have  awak- 
ened once  thus  in  India — and  to  have  found  a  great 
cobra  coiled  at  his  feet.  His  inspection  revealed 
the  presence  of  nothing  unfamiliar,  and  he  stepped 
out  on  to  the  floor. 

A  faint  clicking  sound  reached  his  ears.  He  stood 
quite  still.  The  clicking  was  repeated. 

"There  is  someone  downstairs  in  my  study  1"  mut- 
tered Stuart. 

He  became  aware  that  the  fear  which  held  him 
was  such  that  unless  he  acted  and  acted  swiftly  he 
should  become  incapable  of  action,  but  he  remem- 
bered that  whereas  the  moonlight  poured  into  the 
bedroom,  the  staircase  would  be  in  complete  dark- 
ness. He  walked  barefooted  across  to  the  dress- 
ing-table and  took  up  an  electric  torch  which  lay 
there.  He  had  not  used  it  for  some  time,  and  he 
pressed  the  button  to  learn  if  the  torch  was  charged. 
A  beam  of  white  light  shone  out  across  the  room, 
and  at  the  same  instant  came  another  sound. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  COWL  5 

If  it  came  from  below  or  above,  from  the  adjoin- 
ing room  or  from  outside  in  the  road,  Stuart  knew 
not.  But  following  hard  upon  the  mysterious  dis- 
turbance which  had  aroused  him  it  seemed  to  pour 
ice  into  his  veins,  it  added  the  complementary  touch 
to  his  panic.  For  it  was  a  kind  of  low  wail — a 
ghostly  minor  wail  in  falling  cadences — unlike  any 
sound  he  had  heard.  It  was  so  excessively  horrible 
that  it  produced  a  curious  effect. 

Discovering  from  the  dancing  of  the  torch-ray 
that  his  hand  was  trembling,  Stuart  concluded  that 
he  had  awakened  from  a  nightmare  and  that  this 
fiendish  wailing  was  no  more  than  an  unusually  de- 
layed aftermath  of  the  imaginary  horrors  which  had 
bathed  him  in  cold  perspiration. 

He  walked  resolutely  to  the  door,  threw  it  open 
and  cast  the  beam  of  light  on  to  the  staircase. 
Softly  he  began  to  descend.  Before  the  study  door 
he  paused.  There  was  no  sound.  He  threw  open 
the  door,  directing  the  torch-ray  into  the  room. 

Cutting  a  white  lane  through  the  blackness,  it 
shone  fully  upon  his  writing-table,  which  was  a 
rather  fine  Jacobean  piece  having  a  sort  of  quaint 
bureau  superstructure  containing  cabinets  and 
drawers.  He  could  detect  nothing  unusual  in  the 
appearance  of  the  littered  table.  A  tobacco  jar 
stood  there,  a  pipe  resting  in  the  lid.  Papers  and 
books  were  scattered  untidily  as  he  had  left  them, 
surrounding  a  tray  full  of  pipe  and  cigarette  ash. 
Then,  suddenly,  he  saw  something  else. 


6  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

One  of  the  bureau  drawers  was  half  opened. 

Stuart  stood  quite  still,  staring  at  the  table.  There 
was  no  sound  in  the  room.  He  crossed  slowly, 
moving  the  light  from  right  to  left.  His  papers  had 
been  overhauled  methodically.  The  drawers  had 
been  replaced,  but  he  felt  assured  that  all  had  been 
examined.  The  light  switch  was  immediately  beside 
the  outer  door,  and  Stuart  walked  over  to  it  and 
switched  on  both  lamps.  Turning,  he  surveyed  the 
brilliantly  illuminated  room.  Save  for  himself,  it 
was  empty.  He  looked  out  into  the  hallway  again. 
There  was  no  one  there.  No  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness. But  that  consciousness  of  some  near  presence 
asserted  itself  persistently  and  uncannily. 

"My  nerves  are  out  of  order !"  he  muttered.  "No 
one  has  touched  my  papers.  I  must  have  left  the 
drawer  open  myself." 

He  switched  off  the  light  and  walked  across  to 
the  door.  He  had  actually  passed  out  intending  to 
return  to  his  room,  when  he  became  aware  of  a 
slight  draught.  He  stopped. 

Someone  or  something,  evil  and  watchful,  seemed 
to  be  very  near  again.  Stuart  turned  and  found 
himself  gazing  fearfully  in  the  direction  of  the  open 
study  door.  He  became  persuaded  anew  that  some- 
one was  hiding  there,  and  snatching  up  an  ash  stick 
which  lay  upon  a  chair  in  the  hall  he  returned  to  the 
door.  One  step  into  the  room  he  took  and  paused 
— palsied  with  a  sudden  fear  which  exceeded  any- 
thing he  had  known. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  COWL  7 

A  white  casement  curtain  was  drawn  across  the 
French  windows  .  .  .  and  outlined  upon  this  moon- 
bright  screen  he  saw  a  tall  figure.  It  was  that  of  a 
cowled  man! 

Such  an  apparition  would  have  been  sufficiently 
alarming  had  the  cowl  been  that  of  a  monk,  but  the 
outline  of  this  phantom  being  suggested  that  of  one 
of  the  Misericordia  brethren  or  the  costume  worn  of 
old  by  the  familiars  of  the  Inquisition ! 

His  heart  leapt  wildly,  and  seemed  to  grow  still. 
He  sought  to  cry  out  in  his  terror,  but  only  emitted 
a  dry  gasping  sound. 

The  psychology  of  panic  is  obscure  and  has  been 
but  imperfectly  explored.  The  presence  of  the 
terrible  cowled  figure  afforded  confirmation  of 
Stuart's  theory  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  specie^ 
of  waking  nightmare. 

Even  as  he  looked,  the  shadow  of  the  cowled  man 
moved — and  was  gone. 

Stuart  ran  across  the  room,  jerked  open  the  cur- 
tains and  stared  out  across  the  moon-bathed  lawn, 
its  prospect  terminated  by  high  privet  hedges.  One 
of  the  French  windows  was  wide  open.  There  was 
no  one  on  the  lawn ;  there  was  no  sound. 

"Mrs.  M'Gregor  swears  that  I  always  forget  to 
shut  these  windows  at  night !"  he  muttered. 

He  closed  and  bolted  the  window,  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  out  across  the  empty  lawn,  then 
turned  and  went  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PIBROCH  OF  THE  MCGREGORS 

DR.  STUART  awoke  in  the  morning  and 
tried  to  recall  what  had  occurred  during  the 
night.  He  consulted  his  watch  and  found 
the  hour  to  be  six  a.  m.  No  one  was  stirring  in  the 
house,  and  he  rose  and  put  on  a  bath  robe.  He 
felt  perfectly  well  and  could  detect  no  symptoms  of 
nervous  disorder.  Bright  sunlight  was  streaming 
into  the  room,  and  he  went  out  on  to  the  landing, 
fastening  the  cord  of  his  gown  as  he  descended  the 
stairs. 

His  study  door  was  locked,  with  the  key  outside. 
He  remembered  having  locked  it.  Opening  it,  he 
entered  and  looked  about  him.  He  was  vaguely  dis- 
appointed. Save  for  the  untidy  litter  of  papers 
upon  the  table,  the  study  was  as  he  had  left  it  on 
retiring.  If  he  could  believe  the  evidence  of  his 
senses,  nothing  had  been  disturbed. 

Not  content  with  a  casual  inspection,  he  particu- 
larly examined  those  papers  which,  in  his  dream 
adventure,  he  had  believed  to  have  been  submitted 
to  mysterious  inspection.  They  showed  no  signs  of 
having  been  touched.  The  casement  curtains  were 
drawn  across  the  recess  formed  by  the  French  win- 
dows, and  sunlight  streamed  in  where,  silhouetted 

8 


THE  PIBROCH  OF  THE  M'GREGORS  9 

against  the  pallid  illumination  of  the  moon,  he  had 
seen  the  man  in  the  cowl.  Drawing  back  the  cur- 
tains, he  examined  the  window  fastenings.  They 
were  secure.  If  the  window  had  really  been  open 
in  the  night,  he  must  have  left  it  so  himself. 

"Well,"  muttered  Stuart— "of  all  the  amazing 
nightmares !" 

He  determined,  immediately  he  had  bathed  and 
completed  his  toilet,  to  write  an  account  of  the 
dream  for  the  Psychical  Research  Society,  in  whose 
work  he  was  interested.  Half  an  hour  later,  as  the 
movements  of  an  awakened  household  began  to 
proclaim  themselves,  he  sat  down  at  his  writing- 
table  and  commenced  to  write. 

Keppel  Stuart  was  a  dark,  good-looking  man  of 
about  thirty-two,  an  easy-going  bachelor  who,  whilst 
not  over  ambitious,  was  nevertheless  a  brilliant 
physician.  He  had  worked  for  the  Liverpool 
School  of  Tropical  Medicine  and  had  spent  several 
years  in  India  studying  snake  poisons.  His  pur- 
chase of  this  humdrum  suburban  practice  had  been 
dictated  by  a  desire  to  make  a  home  for  a  girl  who 
at  the  eleventh  hour  had  declined  to  share  it.  Two 
years  had  elapsed  since  then,  but  the  shadow  still 
lay  upon  Stuart's  life,  its  influence  being  revealed 
in  a  certain  apathy,  almost  indifference,  which  char- 
acterised his  professional  conduct. 

His  account  of  the  dream  completed,  he  put  the 
paper  into  a  pigeon-hole  and  forgot  all  about  the 
matter.  That  day  seemed  to  be  more  than  usually 


io  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

dull  and  the  hours  to  drag  wearily  on.  He  was  con- 
scious of  a  sort  of  suspense.  He  was  waiting  for 
something,  or  for  someone.  He  did  not  choose  to 
analyse  this  mental  condition.  Had  he  done  so,  the 
explanation  was  simple — and  one  that  he  dared  not 
face. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  that  night,  having  been  called 
out  to  a  case,  he  returned  to  his  house,  walking 
straight  into  the  study  as  was  his  custom  and  casting 
a  light  Burberry  with  a  soft  hat  upon  the  sofa  be- 
side his  stick  and  bag.  The  lamps  were  lighted, 
and  the  book-lined  room,  indicative  of  a  studious 
and  not  over- wealthy  bachelor,  looked  cheerful 
enough  with  the  firelight  dancing  on  the  furniture. 

Mrs.  M'Gregor,  a  grey-haired  Scotch  lady,  attired 
with  scrupulous  neatness,  was  tending  the  fire  at 
the  moment,  and  hearing  Stuart  come  in  she  turned 
and  glanced  at  him. 

"A  fire  is  rather  superfluous  to-night,  Mrs. 
M'Gregor,"  he  said.  "I  found  it  unpleasantly  warm 
walking." 

"May  is  a  fearsome  treacherous  month,  Mr.  Kep- 
pel,"  replied  the  old  housekeeper,  who  from  long 
association  with  the  struggling  practitioner  had  come 
to  regard  him  as  a  son.  "An*  a  wheen  o'  dry  logs 
is  worth  a  barrel  o'  pheesic.  To  which  I  would  add 
that  if  ye're  hintin'  it's  time  ye  shed  ye're  woolsies 
for  ye're  summer  wear,  all  I  have  to  reply  is  that  I 
hope  sincerely  ye're  patients  are  more  prudent  than 
Yoursel'." 


THE  PIBROCH  OF  THE  M'GREGORS  11 

She  placed  his  slippers  in  the  fender  and  took  up 
the  hat,  stick  and  coat  from  the  sofa.  Stuart  laughed. 

"Most  of  the  neighbors  exhibit  their  wisdom  by 
refraining  from  becoming  patients  of  mine,  Mrs. 
M'Gregor." 

"That's  no  weesdom;  it's  just  preejudice." 

"Prejudice!"  cried  Stuart,  dropping  down  upon 
the  sofa. 

"Aye,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Gregor  firmly — "preeju- 
dice !  They're  no'  that  daft  but  they're  well  aware 
o'  who's  the  cleverest  physeecian  in  the  deestrict, 
an'  they  come  to  nane  other  than  Dr.  Keppel  Stuart 
when  they're  sair  sick  and  think  they're  dying;  but 
ye'll  never  establish  the  practice  you  desairve,  Mr. 
Keppel — never — until " 

"Until  when,  Mrs.  M'Gregor?" 

"Until  ye  take  heed  of  an  auld  wife's  advice  and 
find  a  new  housekeeper." 

"Mrs.  M'Gregor!"  exclaimed  Stuart  with  con- 
cern. "You  don't  mean  that  you  want  to  desert 
me  ?  After — let  me  see — how  many  years  is  it,  Mrs. 
M'Gregor?" 

"Thirty  years  come  last  Shrove  Tuesday ;  I  dand- 
led ye  on  my  knee,  and  eh !  but  ye  were  bonny !  God 
forbid,  but  I'd  like  to  see  ye  thriving  as  ye  desairve, 
and  that  ye'll  never  do  whilst  ye're  a  bachelor." 

"Oh!"  cried  Stuart,  laughing  again — "oh,  that's 
it,  is  it?  So  you  would  like  me  to  find  some  poor 
inoffensive  girl  to  share  my  struggles?" 

Mrs.    M'Gregor    nodded    wisely.      "She'd    have 


12  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

nane  so  many  to  share.  I  know  ye  think  I'm  old- 
fashioned,  Mr.  Keppel,  and  it  may  be  I  am;  but  I 
do  assure  you  I  would  be  sair  harassed,  if  stricken 
to  my  bed — which,  please  God,  I  won't  be — to  re- 
ceive the  veesits  of  a  pairsonable  young  bachelor — " 

"Er — Mrs.  M'Gregor !"  interrupted  Stuart,  cough- 
ing in  mock  rebuke — "quite  so!  I  fancy  we  have 
discussed  this  point  before,  and  as  you  say  your 
ideas  are  a  wee  bit,  just  a  wee  bit,  behind  the  times. 
On  this  particular  point  I  mean.  But  I  am  very 
grateful  to  you,  very  sincerely  grateful,  for  your 
disinterested  kindness;  and  if  ever  I  should  follow 
your  advice " 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  interrupted  him,  pointing  to  his 
boots.  "Ye're  no'  that  daft  as  to  sit  in  wet  boots  ?" 

"Really  they  are  perfectly  dry.  Except  for  a 
light  shower  this  evening,  there  has  been  no  rain 
for  several  days.  However,  I  may  as  well,  since  I 
shall  not  be  going  out  again." 

He  began  to  unlace  his  boots  as  Mrs.  M'Gregor 
pulled  the  white  casement  curtains  across  the  win- 
dows and  then  prepared  to  retire.  Her  hand  upon 
the  door  knob,  she  turned  again  to  Stuart. 

"The  foreign  lady  called  half  an  hour  since,  Mr. 
Keppel." 

Stuart  desisted  from  unlacing  his  boots  and  looked 
up  with  lively  interest.  "Mile.  Dorian!  Did  she 
leave  any  message  ?" 

"She  obsairved  that  she  might  repeat  her  veesit 
later,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  and,  after  a  mo- 


THE  PIBROCH  OF  THE  M'GREGORS  13 

ment's  hesitation:  "she  awaited  ye're  return  with 
exemplary  patience." 

"Really,  I  am  sorry  I  was  detained,"  declared 
Stuart,  replacing  his  boot.  "How  long  has  she  been 
gone,  then?" 

"Just  the  now.  No  more  than  two  or  three  min- 
utes. I  trust  she  is  no  worse." 

"Worse !" 

"The  lass  seemed  o'er  anxious  to  see  you." 

"Well,  you  know,  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  she  comes  a 
considerable  distance." 

"So  I  am  given  to  understand,  Mr.  Keppel,"  re- 
plied the  old  lady;  "and  in  a  grand  luxurious  car." 

Stuart  assumed  an  expression  of  perplexity  to 
hide  his  embarrassment.  "Mrs.  M'Gregor,"  he  said 
rather  ruefully,  "you  watch  over  me  as  tenderly  as 
my  own  mother  would  haiie  done.  I  have  observed 
a  certain  restraint  in  your  manner  whenever  you 
have  had  occasion  to  refer  to  Mile.  Dorian.  In 
what  way  does  she  differ  from  my  other  lady  pa- 
tients?" And  even  as  he  spoke  the  words  he  knew 
in  his  heart  that  she  differed  from  every  other 
woman  in  the  world. 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  sniffed.  "Do  your  other  lady 
patients  wear  furs  that  your  airnings  for  six  months 
could  never  pay  for,  Mr.  Keppel?"  she  inquired. 

."No,  unfortunately  they  pin  their  faith,  for  the 
most  part,  to  gaily  coloured  shawls.  All  the  more 
reason  why  I  should  bless  the  accident  which  led 
Mile.  Dorian  to  my  door." 


I4  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Mrs.  M'Gregor,  betraying,  in  her  interest,  real 
suspicion,  murmured  sotto  voce:  "Then  she  is  a 
patient?" 

"What's  that?"  asked  Stuart,  regarding  her  sur- 
prisedly.  "A  patient  ?  Certainly.  She  suffers  from 
insomnia." 

"I'm  no'  surprised  to  hear  it." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  M'Gregor?" 

"Now,  Mr.  Keppel,  laddie,  ye're  angry  with  me, 
and  like  enough  I  am  a  meddlesome  auld  woman. 
But  I  know  what  a  man  will  do  for  shining  een  and 
a  winsome  face — nane  better  to  my  sorrow — and 
twa  times  have  I  heard  the  Warning." 

Stuart  stood  up  in  real  perplexity.  "Pardon  my 
density,  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  but — er — the  Warning?  To 
what  'warning'  do  you  refer?" 

Seating  herself  in  the  chair  before  the  writing- 
table,  Mrs.  M'Gregor  shook  her  head  pensively. 
"What  would  it  be,"  she  said  softly,  "but  the  Pib- 
roch o'  the  M'Gregors?" 

Stuart  came  across  and  leaned  upon  a  corner  of 
the  table.  "The  Pibroch  of  the  M'Gregors?"  he 
repeated. 

"Nane  other.  Tis  said  to  be  Rob  Roy's  ain  piper 
that  gives  warning  when  danger  threatens  ane  o' 
the  M'Gregors  or  any  they  love." 

Stuart  restrained  a  smile,  and,  "A  well-mean- 
ing but  melancholy  retainer !"  he  commented. 

"As  well  as  I  hear  you  now,  laddie,  I  heard  the 
pibroch  on  the  day  a  certain  woman  first  crossed  my 


THE  PIBROCH  OF  THE  M'GREGORS  15 

threshold,  nigh  thirty  years  ago,  in  Inverary.  And 
as  plainly  as  I  heard  it  wailing  then,  I  heard  it  the 
first  evening  that  Miss  Dorian  came  to  this  house  1" 

Torn  between  good-humoured  amusement  and 
real  interest,  "If  I  remember  rightly,"  said  Stuart, 
"Mile.  Dorian  first  called  here  just  a  week  ago,  and 
immediately  before  I  returned  from  an  Infirmary 
case?" 

"Your  memory  is  guid,  Mr.  Keppel." 

"And  when,  exactly,  did  you  hear  this  Warning?" 

"Twa  minutes  before  you  entered  the  house ;  and 
I  heard  it  again  the  now." 

"What!  you  heard  it  to-night?" 

"I  heard  it  again  just  the  now  and  I  lookit  out  the 
window." 

"Did  you  obtain  a  glimpse  of  Rob  Roy's  piper?" 

"Ye're  laughing  at  an  auld  wife,  laddie.  No,  but 
I  saw  Miss  Dorian  away  in  her  car  and  twa  min- 
utes later  I  saw  yourself  coming  round  the  corner." 

"If  she  had  only  waited  another  two  minutes," 
murmured  Stuart.  "No  matter;  she  may  return. 
And  are  these  the  only  occasions  upon  which  you 
have  heard  this  mysterious  sound,  Mrs.  M'Gregor?" 

"No,  Master  Keppel,  they  are  not.  I  assure  ye 
something  threatens.  It  wakened  me  up  in  the  wee 
sma'  hours  last  night — the  piping — an'  I  lay  awake 
shaking  for  long  eno'." 

"How  extraordinary.  Are  you  sure  your  imag- 
ination is  not  playing  you  tricks?" 

"Ah,  ye're  no'  takin'  me  seriously,  laddie." 


16  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Mrs.  M'Gregor" — he  leaned  across  the  table  and 
rested  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders — "you  are  a 
second  mother  to  me,  your  care  makes  me  feel  like 
a  boy  again;  and  in  these  grey  days  it's  good  to 
feel  like  a  boy  again.  You  think  I  am  laughing  at 
^ou,  but  I'm  not.  The  strange  tradition  of  your 
family  is  associated  with  a  tragedy  in  your  life; 
therefore  I  respect  it.  But  have  no  fear  with  re- 
gard to  Mile.  Dorian.  In  the  first  place  she  is  a  pa- 
tient; in  the  second — I  am  merely  a  penniless  sub- 
urban practitioner.  Good-night,  Mrs.  M'Gregor. 
Don't  think  of  waiting  up.  Tell  Mary  to  show 
Mademoiselle  in  here  directly  she  arrives — that  is 
if  she  really  returns." 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  stood  up  and  walked  slowly  to  the 
door.  "I'll  show  Mademoiselle  in  mysel',  Mr.  Kep 
pel,"  she  said — "and  show  her  out." 

She  closed  the  door  very  quietly. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  SCORPION'S  TAIL 

SEATING  himself  at  the  writing-table,  Stuart 
began  mechanically  to  arrange  his  papers. 
Then  from  the  tobacco  jar  he  loaded  his  pipe, 
but  his  manner  remained  abstracted.  Yet  he  was 
not  thinking  of  the  phantom  piper  but  of  Mile. 
Dorian. 

Until  he  had  met  this  bewilderingly  pretty  woman 
he  had  thought  that  his  heart  was  for  evermore 
proof  against  the  glances  of  bright  eyes.  Mademoi- 
selle had  disillusioned  him.  She  was  the  most  fra- 
grantly lovely  creature  he  had  ever  met,  and  never 
for  one  waking  moment  since  her  first  visit,  had  he 
succeeded  in  driving  her  bewitching  image  from 
his  mind.  He  had  tried  to  laugh  at  his  own  folly, 
then  had  grown  angry  with  himself,  but  finally  had 
settled  down  to  a  dismayed  acceptance  of  a  wild  in- 
fatuation. 

He  had  no  idea  who  Mile.  Dorian  was ;  he  did  not 
even  know  her  exact  nationality,  but  he  strongly 
suspected  that  there  was  a  strain  of  Eastern  blood 
in  her  veins.  Although  she  was  quite  young,  ap- 
parently little  more  than  twenty  years  of  age,  she 
dressed  like  a  woman  of  unlimited  means,  and  al- 
though all  her  visits  had  been  at  night  he  had  had 

17 


i8  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

glirrpses  of  the  big  car  which  had  aroused  Mrs. 
M'Gregor's  displeasure. 

Yes — So  ran  his  musings,  as,  pipe  in  mouth,  he 
rested  his  chin  in  his  hands  and  stared  grimly  into 
the  fire — she  had  always  come  at  night  and  always 
alone.  He  had  supposed  her  to  be  a  Frenchwoman, 
but  an  unmarried  French  girl  of  good  family  does 
not  make  late  calls,  even  upon  a  medical  man,  un- 
attended. Had  he  perchance  unwittingly  made  him- 
self a  party  to  the  escapade  of  some  unruly  member 
of  a  noble  family  ?  From  the  first  he  had  shrewdly 
suspected  the  ailments  of  Mile.  Dorian  to  be  imagin- 
ary— Mile.  Dorian  ?  It  was  an  odd  name. 

"I  shall  be  imagining  she  is  a  disguised  princess 
if  I  wonder  about  her  any  more !"  he  muttered  ang- 
rily. 

Detecting  himself  in  the  act  of  heaving  a  weary 
sigh,  he  coughed  in  self-reproval  and  reached  into 
a  pigeon-hole  for  the  MS.  of  his  unfinished  paper  on 
"Snake  Poisons  and  Their  Antidotes."  By  chance 
he  pulled  out  the  brief  account,  written  the  same 
morning,  of  his  uncanny  experience  during  the 
night.  He  read  it  through  reflectively. 

It  was  incomplete.  A  certain  mental  haziness 
which  he  had  noted  upon  awakening  had  in  some 
way  obscured  the  facts.  His  memory  of  the  dream 
had  been  imperfect.  Even  now,  whilst  recognizing 
that  some  feature  of  the  experience  was  missing 
from  his  written  account,  he  could  not  identify  the 
omission.  But  one  memory  arose  starkly  before 


THE  SCORPION'S  TAIL  19 

him — that  of  the  cowled  man  who  had  stood  be- 
hind the  curtains.  It  had  power  to  chill  him  yet 
The  old  incredulity  returned  and  methodically  he  re- 
examined  the  contents  of  some  of  the  table  drawers. 
Ere  long,  however,  he  desisted  impatiently. 

"What  the  devil  could  a  penniless  doctor  have 
hidden  in  his  desk  that  was  worth  stealing  1"  he  said 
aloud.  "I  must  avoid  cold  salmon  and  cucumber 
in  future." 

He  tossed  the  statement  aside  and  turned  to  his 
scientific  paper. 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Come  in  !"  snapped  Stuart  irritably ;  but  the  next 
moment  he  had  turned,  eager-eyed,  to  the  servant 
who  had  entered. 

"Inspector  Dunbar  has  called,  sir." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Stuart,  repressing  another 
sigh.  "Show  him  in  here." 

There  entered,  shortly,  a  man  of  unusual  height, 
a  man  gaunt  and  square  both  of  figure  and  face. 
He  wore  his  clothes  and  his  hair  untidily.  He  was 
iron  grey  and  a  grim  mouth  was  ill  concealed  by  the 
wiry  moustache.  The  most  notable  features  of  a 
striking  face  were  the  tawny  leonine  eyes,  which 
could  be  fierce,  which  could  be  pensive  and  which 
were  often  kindly. 

"Good-evening,  doctor,"  he  said — and  his  voice 
was  pleasant  and  unexpectedly  light  in  tone.  "Hope 
I  don't  intrude." 

"Not    at    all,    Inspector,"    Stuart    assured    him. 


20  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Make  yourself  comfortable  in  the  armchair  and 
fill  your  pipe." 

"Thanks,"  said  Dunbar.  "I  will."  He  took  out 
his  pipe  and  reached  out  a  long  arm  for  the  tobacco 
jar.  "I  came  to  see  if  you  could  give  me  a  tip  on 
a  matter  that  has  cropped  up." 

"Something  in  my  line?"  asked  Stuart,  a  keen 
professional  look  coming  momentarily  into  his  eyes. 

"It's  supposed  to  be  a  poison  case,  although  I 
can't  see  it  myself,"  answered  the  detective — to 
whom  Keppel  Stuart's  unusual  knowledge  of  poisons 
had  been  of  service  in  the  past;  "but  if  what  I  sus- 
pect is  true,  it's  a  very  big  case  all  the  same." 

Laying  down  his  pipe,  which  he  had  filled  but 
not  lighted,  Inspector  Dunbar  pulled  out  from  the 
inside  pocket  of  his  tweed  coat  a  bulging  note-book 
and  extracted  therefrom  some  small  object  wrapped 
up  in  tissue  paper.  Unwrapping  this  object,  he  laid 
it  upon  the  table. 

"Tell  me  what  that  is,  doctor,"  he  said,  "and  I 
shall  be  obliged." 

Stuart  peered  closely  at  that  which  lay  before 
him.  It  was  a  piece  of  curiously  shaped  gold,  cun- 
ningly engraved  in  a  most  unusual  way.  Rather 
less  than  an  inch  in  length,  it  formed  a  crescent 
made  up  of  six  oval  segments  joined  one  to  another, 
the  sixth  terminating  in  a  curled  point.  The  first 
and  largest  segment  ended  jaggedly  where  it  had 
evidently  been  snapped  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
ornament — if  the  thing  had  formed  part  of  an 


THE  SCORPION'S  TAIL  21 

ornament.  Stuart  looked  up,  frowning  in  a  puzzled 
way. 

"It  is  a  most  curious  fragment  of  jewellery — 
possibly  of  Indian  origin,"  he  said. 

Inspector  Dunbar  lighted  his  pipe  and  tossed  th& 
match-end  into  the  fire.  "But  what  does  it  repre- 
sent?" he  asked. 

"Oh,  as  to  that — I  said  a  curious  fragment  ad- 
visedly, because  I  cannot  imagine  any  woman  wear- 
ing such  a  beastly  thing.  It  is  the  tail  of  a  scor- 
pion." 

"Ah!"  cried  Dunbar,  the  tawny  eyes  glittering 
with  excitement.  "The  tail  of  a  scorpion !  I  thought 
so !  And  Sowerby  would  have  it  that  it  represented 
the.  stem  of  a  Cactus  or  Prickly  Pear!" 

"Not  so  bad  a  guess,"  replied  Stuart.  "There  are 
resemblances — not  in  the  originals  but  in  such  a 
miniature  reproduction  as  this.  He  was  wrong, 
however.  May  I  ask  where  you  obtained  the  frag- 
ment ?" 

"I'm  here  to  tell  you,  doctor,  for  now  that  I 
know  it's  a  scorpion's  tail  I  know  that  I'm  out  of 
my  depth  as  well.  You've  travelled  in  the  East  and 
lived  in  the  East — two  very  different  things.  Now, 
while  you  were  out  there,  in  India,  China,  Burma 
and  so  on,  did  you  ever  come  across  a  religion  or 
a  cult  that  worshipped  scorpions?" 

Stuart  frowned  thoughtfully,  rubbing  his  chin 
with  the  mouthpiece  of  his  pipe.  Dunbar  watched 
him  expectantly. 


22  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Help  yourself  to  whiskey-and-soda,  Inspector," 
said  Stuart  absently.  "You'll  find  everything  on  the 
side-table  yonder.  I'm  thinking." 

Inspector  Dunbar  nodded,  stood  up  and  crossed 
the  room,  where  he  busied  himself  with  syphon  and 
decanter.  Presently  he  returned,  carrying  two  full 
glasses,  one  of  which  he  set  before  Stuart.  "What's 
the  answer,  doctor?"  he  asked. 

"The  answer  is  no.  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
any  sect  of  scorpion- worshippers,  Inspector.  But  I 
once  met  with  a  curious  experience  at  Su-Chow  in 
China,  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  explain,  but 
which  may  interest  you.  It  wanted  but  a  few  min- 
utes to  sunset,  and  I  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  my 
quarters  before  dusk  fell.  Therefore  I  hurried  up 
my  boy,  who  was  drawing  the  rickshaw,  telling  him 
to  cross  the  Canal  by  the  Wu-Men  Bridge.  He  ran 
fleetly  in  that  direction,  and  we  were  actually  come 
to  the  steep  acclivity  of  the  bridge,  when  suddenly 
the  boy  dropped  the  shafts  and  fell  down  on  his 
knees,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  'Shut  your  eyes  tightly,  master !'  he  whispered. 
'The  Scorpion  is  coming !' 

"I  stared  down  at  him  in  amazement,  as  was 
natural,  and  not  a  little  angrily;  for  his  sudden 
action  had  almost  pitched  me  on  my  head.  But 
there  he  crouched,  immovable,  and  staring  up  the 
slope  I  saw  that  it  was  entirely  deserted  except  for 
one  strange  figure  at  that  moment  crossing  the 
crown  of  the  bridge  and  approaching.  It  was  the 


THE  SCORPION'S  TAIL  23 

figure  of  a  tall  and  dignified  Chinaman,  or  of  one 
who  wore  the  dress  of  a  Chinaman.  For  the  extra- 
ordinary thing  about  the  stranger's  appearance  was 
this :  he  also  wore  a  thick  green  veil !" 

"Covering  his  face?" 

"So  as  to  cover  his  face  completely.  I  was  star- 
ing at  him  in  wonder,  when  the  boy,  seeming  to 
divine  the  other's  approach,  whispered,  'Turn  your 
head  away !  Turn  your  head  away !" 

"He  was  referring  to  the  man  with  the  veil?" 

"Undoubtedly.  Of  course  I  did  nothing  of  the 
kind,  but  it  was  impossible  to  discern  the  stranger's 
features  through  the  thick  gauze,  although  he  passed 
quite  close  to  me.  He  had  not  proceeded  another 
three  paces,  I  should  think,  before  my  boy  had 
snatched  up  the  shafts  and  darted  across  the  bridge 
as  though  all  hell  were  after  him!  Here's  the  odd 
thing,  though :  I  could  never  induce  him  to  speak  a 
word  on  the  subject  afterwards !  I  bullied  him  and 
bribed  him,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  And  although  I 
must  have  asked  more  than  a  hundred  Chinamen  in 
every  station  of  society  from  mandarin  to  mendi- 
cant, 'Who  or  what  is  The  Scorpion?"  one  and  all 
looked  stupid,  blandly  assuring  me  that  they  did  not 
know  what  I  meant." 

"H'm !"  said  Dunbar,  "it's  a  queer  yarn,  certainly. 
How  long  ago  would  that  be,  doctor?" 

"Roughly — five  years." 

"It  sounds  as  though  it  might  belong  to  the  case. 
Some  months  back,  early  in  the  winter,  we  received 


24  THE  GOLDEN  SCORMON 

instructions  at  the  Yard  to  look  out  everywhere  in 
the  press,  in  buffets,  theatres,  but  particularly  in 
criminal , quarters,  for  any  reference  (of  any  kind 
whatever)  to  a  scorpion.  I  was  so  puzzled  that  I 
saw  the  Commissioner  about  it,  and  he  could  tell  me 
next  to  nothing.  He  said  the  word  had  come 
through  from  Paris,  but  that  Paris  seemed  to  know 
no  more  about  it  than  we  did.  It  was  associated  in 
some  way  with  the  sudden  deaths  of  several  notable 
public  men  about  that  time;  but  as  there  was  no 
evidence  ot  foul  play  in  any  of  the  cases,  I  couldn't 
see  what  it  meant  at  all.  Then,  six  weeks  ago,  Sir 
Frank  Narcombe,  the  surgeon,  fell  dead  in  the  foyer 
of  a  West-End  theatre — you  remember  ?" 

"Perfectly — an  extraordinary  case.  There  should 
have  been  an  autopsy." 

"It's  curious  you  should  say  so,  doctor,  because 
we  had  the  tip  to  press  for  one;  but  Sir  Frank's 
people  had  big  influence,  and  we  lost  This  is  the 
point,  though.  I  was  working  day  and  night  for  a 
week  or  more,  cross-questioning  Tom,  Dick  and 
Harry  and  examining  shoals  of  papers  to  try  and 
find  some  connection  between  Sir  Frank  Narcombe 
and  a  scorpion  !  Paris  information  again !  Of  course 
I  found  no  trace  of  such  a  thing.  It  was  a  devil 
of  a  iob,  because  I  didn't  really  know  what  I  was 
looking  for.  I  had  begun  to  think  that  the  scorpion- 
hunt  had  gone  the  way  of  a  good  many  other  giant 
gooseberries,  when  last  night  the  River  Police  got 
the  grapnel  on  a  man  off  Hanover  Hole — a  rich  spot 


THE  SCORPION'S  TAIL  25 

for  'finds.'  He  was  frightfully  battered  about;  he 
seemed  to  have  got  mixed  up  with  a  steamer's  pro- 
peller blades.  The  only  two  things  by  which  he 
may  ultimately  be  identified  are  a  metal  dis"k  which 
he  wore  on  a  chain  around  his  wrist  and  which  bore 
the  initials  G.M.  and  the  number  49685,  and — that." 

"What?"  said  Stuart. 

"The  scorpion's  tail.  It  was  stuck  in  the  torn 
lining  of  his  jacket  pocket." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MADEMOISELLE  DORIAN 


fTTlHE  telephone  bell  rang. 

Stuart  reached  across  for  the  instrument 


1 


and  raised  the  receiver.  "Yes,"  he  said — 
"Dr.  Stuart  speaking.  Inspector  Dunbar  is  here. 
Hold  on." 

He  passed  the  instrument  to  Dunbar,  who  had 
stood  up  on  hearing  his  name  mentioned.  "Ser- 
geant Sowerby  at  Scotland  Yard  wishes  to  speak  to 
you,  Inspector." 

"Hullo,"  said  Dunbar — "that  you,  Sowerby.  Yes 
— but  I  arrived  here  only  a  short  time  ago.  What's 
that? — Max!  Did  you  say  Max?  Good  God!  what 
does  it  all  mean!  Are  you  sure  of  the  number — 
49685  ?  Poor  chap — he  should  have  worked  with  us 
instead  of  going  off  alone  like  that.  But  he  was 
always  given  to  that  sort  of  thing.  Wait  for  me. 
I'll  be  with  you  in  a  few  minutes.  I  can  get  a  taxi. 
And,  Sowerby — listen!  It's  'The  Scorpion'  case 
right  enough.  That  bit  of  gold  found  on  the  dead 
man  is  not  a  castus  stem ;  it's  a  scorpion's  tail !" 

He  put  down  the  telephone  and  turned  to  Stuart, 
who  had  been  listening  to  the  words  with  growing 
concern.  Dunbar  struck  his  open  palm  down  on  to 
the  table  with  a  violent  gesture. 

26 


MADEMOISELLE  DORIAN  27 

"We  have  been  asleep!"  he  exclaimed.  "Gas- 
ton  Max  of  the  Paris  Service  has  been  at  work  in 
London  for  a  month,  and  we  didn't  know  it !" 

"Gaston  Max !"  cried  Stuart — "then  it  must  be  a 
big  case  indeed." 

As  a  student  of  criminology  the  name  of  the  cele- 
brated Frenchman  was  familiar  to  him  as  that  of 
the  foremost  criminal  investigator  in  Europe,  and 
he  found  himself  staring  at  the  fragment  of  gold 
with  a  new  and  keener  interest. 

"Poor  chap,"  continued  Dunbar — "it  was  his 
last.  The  body  brought  in  from  Hanover  Hole 
has  been  identified  as  his." 

"What !  it  is  the  body  of  Gaston  Max  I" 

"Paris  has  just  wired  that  Max's  reports  ceased 
over  a  week  ago.  He  was  working  on  the  case  of 
Sir  Frank  Narcombe,  it  seems,  and  I  never  knew! 
But  I  predicted  a  long  time  ago  that  Max  would 
play  the  lone-hand  game  once  too  often.  They  sent 
particulars.  The  identification  disk  is  his.  Oh! 
there's  no  doubt  about  it,  unfortunately.  The  dead 
man's  face  is  unrecognizable,  but  it's  not  likely  there 
are  two  disks  of  that  sort  bearing  the  initials  G.M. 
and  the  number  49685.  I'm  going  along  now.  Should 
you  care  to  come,  doctor?" 

"I  am  expecting  a  patient,  Inspector,"  replied 
Stuart — "er — a  special  case.  But  I  hope  you  will 
keep  me  in  touch  with  this  affair  ?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  have  suggested  your  coming  to 
the  Yard  if  I  hadn't  wanted  to  do  that.  As  a  mat- 


28  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

ter  of  fact,  this  scorpion  job  seems  to  resolve  itself 
into  a  case  of  elaborate  assassination  by  means  of 
some  unknown  poison ;  and  although  I  should  have 
come  to  see  you  in  any  event,  because  you  have 
helped  me  more  than  once,  I  came  to-night  at  the 
suggestion  of  the  Commissioner.  He  instructed  me 
to  retain  your  services  if  they  were  available." 

"I  am  honoured,"  replied  Stuart.  "But  after  all, 
Inspector,  I  am  merely  an  ordinary  suburban  practi- 
tioner. My  reputation  has  yet  to  be  made.  What's 
the  matter  with  Halesowen  of  Upper  Wimpole 
Street  ?  He's  the  big  man." 

"And  if  Sir  Frank  Narcombe  was  really  poisoned 
— as  Paris  seems  to  think  he  was — he's  also  a  big 
fool,"  retorted  Dunbar  bluntly.  "He  agreed  that 
death  was  due  to  heart  trouble." 

"I  know  he  did ;  unsuspected  ulcerative  endocar- 
ditis. Perhaps  he  was  right." 

"If  he  was  right,"  said  Dunbar,  taking  up  the 
piece  of  gold  from  the  table,  "what  was  Gaston  Max 
doing  with  this  thing  in  his  possession?" 

"There  may  be  no  earthly  connection  between 
Max's  inquiries  and  the  death  of  Sir  Frank." 

"On  the  other  hand — there  may!  Leaving  Dr. 
Halesowen  out  of  the  question,  are  you  open  to 
act  as  expert  adviser  in  this  case?" 

"Certainly ;  delighted." 

"Your  fee  is  your  own  affair,  doctor.  I  will 
communicate  with  you  later,  if  you  wish,  or  call 
again  in  the  morning." 


MADEMOISELLE  DORIAN  29 

Dunbar  wrapped  up  the  scorpion's  tail  in  the 
piece  of  tissue  paper  and  was  about  to  replace  it  in 
his  note-case.  Then : 

"I'll  leave  this  with  you,  doctor,"  he  said.  "I 
know  it  will  be  safe  enough,  and  you  might  like  to 
examine  it  at  greater  leisure." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Stuart.  "Some  of  the  en- 
graving is  very  minute.  I  will  have  a  look  at  it 
through  a  glass  later." 

He  took  the  fragment  from  Dunbar,  who  had 
again  unwrapped  it,  and,  opening  a  drawer  of  the 
writing-table  in  which  he  kept  his  cheque-book  and 
some  few  other  personal  valuables,  he  placed  the 
curious  piece  of  gold-work  within  and  relocked  the 
drawer. 

"I  will  walk  as  far  as  the  cab-rank  with  you," 
he  said,  finding  himself  to  be  possessed  of  a  spirit 
of  unrest.  Whereupon  the  two  went  out  of  the 
room,  Stuart  extinguishing  the  lamps  as  he  came  to 
the  door. 

They  had  not  left  the  study  for  more  than  two 
minutes  ere  a  car  drew  up  outside  the  house,  and 
Mrs.  M'Gregor  ushered  a  lady  into  the  room  but 
lately  quitted  by  Stuart  and  Dunbar,  turning  up  the 
lights  as  she  entered. 

"The  doctor  has  gone  out  but  just  now,  Miss 
Dorian,"  she  said  stiffly.  "I  am  sorry  that  ye  are 
so  unfortunate  in  your  veesits.  But  I  know  he'll 
be  no  more  than  a  few  minutes." 

The  girl  addressed  was  of  a  type  fully  to  account 


30  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

for  the  misgivings  of  the  shrewd  old  Scotswoman. 
She  had  the  slim  beauty  of  the  East  allied  to  the 
elegance  of  the  West.  Her  features,  whilst  cast  in 
a  charming  European  mould,  at  the  same  time  sug- 
gested in  some  subtle  way  the  Oriental.  She  had  the 
long,  almond-shaped  eyes  of  the  Egyptian,  and  her 
hair,  which  she  wore  unconventionally  in  a  pic- 
turesque fashion  reminiscent  of  the  harem,  was  in- 
clined to  be  "fuzzy,"  but  gleamed  with  coppery 
tints  where  the  light  touched  its  waves. 

She  wore  a  cloak  of  purple  velvet  having  a  hooded 
collar  of  white  fox  fur;  it  fastened  with  golden 
cords.  Beneath  it  was  a  white  and  gold  robe,  cut 
with  classic  simplicity  of  line  and  confined  at  the 
waist  by  an  ornate  Eastern  girdle.  White  stockings 
and  dull  gold  shoes  exhibited  to  advantage  her 
charming  little  feet  and  slim  ankles,  and  she  carried 
a  handbag  of  Indian  beadwork.  Mile.  Dorian  was 
a  figure  calculated  to  fire  the  imagination  of  any  man 
and  to  linger  long  and  sweetly  in  the  memory. 

Mrs.  M'Gregor,  palpably  ill  at  ease,  conducted  hel 
to  an  armchair. 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  the  visitor,  speaking 
with  a  certain  hesitancy  and  with  a  slight  accent 
most  musical  and  fascinating.  "I  wait  a  while  if  I 
may." 

"Dear,  dear,"  muttered  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  beginning 
to  poke  the  fire,  "he  has  let  the  fire  down,  of  course  1 
Is  it  out?  No  ...  I  see  a  wee  sparkie!" 

She  set  the  poker  upright  before  the  nearly  ex- 


MADEMOISELLE  DORIAN  31 

tinguished  fire  and  turned  triumphantly  to  Mile. 
Dorian,  who  was  watching  her  with  a  slight  smile. 

"That  will  be  a  comforting  blaze  in  a  few  min- 
utes, Miss  Dorian,"  she  said,  and  went  towards  the 
door. 

"If  you  please,"  called  the  girl,  detaining  her — 
"do  you  permit  me  to  speak  on  the  telephone  a 
moment?  As  Dr.  Stuart  is  not  at  home,  I  must 
explain  that  I  wait  for  him." 

"Certainly,  Miss  Dorian,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Gregor ; 
"use  the  telephone  by  all  means.  But  I  think  the 
doctor  will  be  back  any  moment  now." 

"Thank  you  so  much." 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  went  out,  not  without  a  final 
backward  glance  at  the  elegant  figure  in  the  arm- 
chair. Mile.  Dorian  was  seated,  her  chin  resting  in 
her  hand  and  her  elbow  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
gazing  into  the  smoke  arising  from  the  nearly  ex- 
tinguished embers  of  the  fire.  The  door  closed,  and 
Mrs.  M'Gregor's  footsteps  could  be  heard  receding 
along  the  corridor. 

Mile.  Dorian  sprang  from  the  chair  and  took  out 
of  her  handbag  a  number  of  small  keys  attached  to 
a  ring.  Furtively  she  crossed  the  room,  all  the 
time  listening  intently,  and  cast  her  cloak  over  the 
back  of  the  chair  which  was  placed  before  the  writ- 
ing-table. Her  robe  of  white  and  gold  clung  to  her 
shapely  figure  as  she  bent  over  the  table  and  tried 
three  of  the  keys  in  the  lock  of  the  drawer  which 
contained  Stuart's  cheque-book  and  in  which  he  had 


32  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

recently  placed  the  mysterious  gold  ornament.  The 
third  key  fitted  the  lock,  and  Mile.  Dorian  pulled 
open  the  drawer.  She  discovered  first  the  cheque- 
book and  next  a  private  account-book;  then  from 
under  the  latter  she  drew  out  a  foolscap  envelope 
sealed  with  red  wax  and  bearing,  in  Stuart's  hand- 
writing,  the  address : 

Lost  Property  Office, 
Metropolitan  Police, 

New  Scotland  Yard,  S.  W.  I. 

She  uttered  a  subdued  exclamation;  then,  as  a 
spark  of  light  gleamed  within  the  open  drawer,  she 
gazed  as  if  stupefied  at  the  little  ornament  which  she 
had  suddenly  perceived  lying  near  the  cheque-book. 
She  picked  it  up  and  stared  at  it  aghast.  A  mo- 
ment she  hesitated ;  then,  laying  down  the  fragment 
of  gold  and  also  the  long  envelope  upon  the  table, 
she  took  up  the  telephone.  Keeping  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  closed  door  of  the  study,  she  asked  for  the 
number  East  89512,  and  whilst  she  waited  for  the 
connection  continued  that  nervous  watching  and 
listening.  Suddenly  she  began  to  speak,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Yes ! . . .  Miska  speaks.  Listen !  One  of  the  new 
keys — it  fits.  I  have  the  envelope.  But,  also  in 
the  same  drawer,  I  find  a  part  of  a  broken  gold 
'agrab  (scorpion).  Yes,  it  is  broken.  It  must  be 
they  find  it,  on  him."  Her  manner  grew  more  and 
more  agitated.  "Shall  I  bring  it?  The  envelope  it 
is  very  large.  I  do  not  know  if • 


MADEMOISELLE  DORIAN  33 

From  somewhere  outside  the  house  came  a  low, 
wailing  cry — a  cry  which  Stuart,  if  he  had  heard  it, 
must  have  recognized  to  be  identical  with  that  which 
he  had  heard  in  the  night — but  which  he  had  for- 
gotten to  record  in  his  written  account. 

"Ah!"  whispered  the  girl — "there  is  the  signal  1 
It  is  the  doctor  who  returns."  She  listened  eagerly, 
fearfully,  to  the  voice  which  spoke  over  the  wires. 
"Yes— yes!" 

Always  glancing  toward  the  door,  she  put  down 
the  instrument,  took  up  the  long  envelope  and 
paused  for  a  moment,  thinking  that  she  had  heard 
the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps.  She  exhibited 
signs  of  nervous  indecision,  tried  to  thrust  the  en- 
velope into  her  little  bag  and  realized  that  even 
folded  it  would  not  fit  so  as  to  escape  observation. 
She  ran  across  to  the  grate  and  dropped  the  envel- 
ope upon  the  smouldering  fire.  As  she  did  so,  the 
nicely  balanced  poker  fell  with  a  clatter  upon  the 
tiled  hearth. 

She  started  wildly,  ran  back  to  the  table,  took  up 
the  broken  ornament  and  was  about  to  thrust  it  into 
the  open  drawer,  when  the  study  door  was  flung 
open  and  Stuart  came  in. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE 

'-*  IT  ADEMOISELLE  DORIAN  1"  cried  Stuart 
\\/m  joyously'  advancing  with  outstretched  hand. 
1  »  -"-She  leaned  back  against  the  table  watching 
him— and  suddenly  he  perceived  the  open  drawer. 
He  stopped.  His  expression  changed  to  one  of 
surprise  and  anger,  and  the  girl's  slim  fingers  con- 
vulsively clutched  the  table  edge  as  she  confronted 
him.  Her  exquisite  colour  fled  and  left  her  pallid, 
dark-eyed  and  dismayed. 

"So,"  he  said  bitterly — "I  returned  none  too  soon, 
Mile.— Dorian!" 

"Oh !"  she  whispered,  and  shrank  from  him  as  he 
approached  nearer. 

"Your  object  in  selecting  an  obscure  practitioner 
for  your  medical  adviser  becomes  painfully  evident 
to  me.  Diagnosis  of  your  case  would  have  been 
much  more  easy  if  I  had  associated  your  symptoms 
with  the  presence  in  my  table  drawer  of" — he  hesi- 
tated— "of  something  which  you  have  taken  out. 
Give  me  whatever  you  have  stolen  and  compose 
yourself  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  police." 

He  was  cruel  in  his  disillusionment.  Here  lay 
the  explanation  of  his  romance;  here  was  his  dis- 
guised princess — a  common  thief !  She  stared  at  him 
wildly. 

34 


THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE  35 

"I  take  nothing!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  let  me  go  I 
Please,  please  let  me  go !" 

"Pleading  is  useless.    What  have  you  stolen?" 

"Nothing — see."  She  cast  the  little  gold  orna- 
ment on  the  table.  "I  look  at  this,  but  I  do  not 
mean  to  steal  it." 

She  raised  her  beautiful  eyes  to  his  face  again, 
and  he  found  himself  wavering.  That  she  had 
made  his  acquaintance  in  order  to  steal  the  fragment 
of  the  golden  scorpion  was  impossible,  for  he  had 
not  possessed  it  at  the  time  of  her  first  visit.  He 
was  hopelessly  mystiled  and  utterly  miserable. 

"How  did  you  open  the  drawer?"  he  asked  sternly. 

She  took  up  the  bunch  of  keys  which  lay  upon  tha 
table  and  naively  exhibited  that  which  fitted  the 
lock  of  the  drawer.  Her  hands  were  shaking. 

"Where  did  you  obtain  this  key ;  and  why  ?" 

She  watched  him  intently,  her  lips  trembling  and 
her  eyes  wells  of  sorrow  into  which  he  could  not 
gaze  unmoved. 

"If  I  tell  you — will  you  let  me  go?" 

"I  shall  make  no  promises,  for  I  can  believe  noth- 
ing that  you  may  tell  me.  You  gained  my  confi- 
dence by  a  lie — and  now,  by  another  lie,  you  seem  to 
think  that  you  can  induce  me  to  overlook  a  deliber- 
ate attempt  at  burglary — common  burglary."  He 
clenched  his  hands.  "Heavens!  I  could  never 
have  believed  it  of  you !" 

She  flinched  as  though  from  a  blow  and  regarded 
him  pitifully  as  he  stood,  head  averted. 


36  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Oh,  please  listen  to  me,"  she  whispered.  "At 
first  I  tell  you  a  lie,  yes." 

"And  now?" 

"Now— I  tell  you  the  truth." 

"That  you  are  a  petty  thief  ?" 

"Ah!  you  are  cruel — you  have  no  pity!  You 
judge  me  as  you  judge — one  of  your  Englishwomen. 
Perhaps  I  cannot  help  what  I  do.  In  the  East  a 
woman  is  a  chattel  and  has  no  will  of  her  own." 

"A  chattel !"  cried  Stuart  scornfully.  "Your  re- 
semblance to  the  'chattels'  of  the  East  is  a  remote 
one.  There  is  Eastern  blood  in  your  veins,  no 
doubt,  but  you  are  educated,  you  are  a  linguist,  you 
know  the  world.  Right  and  wrong  are  recognizable 
to  the  lowest  savage." 

"And  if  they  recognize,  but  are  helpless?" 

Stuart  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"You  are  simply  seeking  to  enlist  my  sympathy," 
he  said  bitterly.  "But  you  have  said  nothing  which 
inclines  me  to  listen  to  you  any  longer.  Apart  from 
the  shock  of  finding  you  to  be — what  you  are,  I  am 
utterly  mystified  as  to  your  object.  I  am  a  poor 
man.  The  entire  contents  of  my  house  would  fetch 
only  a  few  hundred  pounds  if  sold  to-morrow.  Yet 
you  risk  your  liberty  to  rifle  my  bureau.  For  the 
last  time — what  have  you  taken  from  that  drawer  ?" 

She  leaned  back  against  the  table,  toying  with  the 
broken  piece  of  gold  and  glancing  down  at  it  as  she 
did  so.  Her  long  lashes  cast  shadows  below  her 
eyes,  and  a  hint  of  colour  was  returning  to  her 


THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE  37* 

cheeks.  Stuart  studied  her  attentively — even  de- 
lightedly, for  all  her  shortcomings,  and  knew  in  his 
heart  that  he  could  never  give  her  in  charge  of  the 
police.  More  and  more  the  wonder  of  it  all  grew 
upon  him,  and  now  he  suddenly  found  himself  think- 
ing of  the  unexplained  incident  of  the  previous 
night. 

"You  do  not  answer,"  he  said.  "I  will  ask  you 
another  question :  have  you  attempted  to  open  that 
drawer  prior  to  this  evening?" 

Mile.  Dorian  looked  up  rapidly,  and  her  cheeks, 
which  had  been  pale,  now  flushed  rosily. 

"I  try  twice  before,"  she  confessed,  "and  cannot 
open  it." 

"Ah !  And — has  someone  else  tried  also  ?" 

Instantly  her  colour  fled  again,  and  she  stared  at 
him  wide-eyed,  fearful. 

"Someone  else  ?"  she  whispered. 

"Yes — someone  else.  A  man  .  .  .  wearing  a  sort 
of  cowl " 

"Oh?"  she  cried  and  threw  out  her  hands  in  en- 
treaty. "Do  not  ask  me  of  him!  I  dare  not  an- 
swer— I  dare  not!" 

"You  have  answered,"  said  Stuart,  in  a  voice  un- 
like his  own ;  for  a  horrified  amazement  was  creep- 
ing upon  him  and  supplanting  the  contemptuous 
anger  which  the  discovery  of  this  beautiful  girl  en- 
gaged in  pilfering  his  poor  belongings  had  at  first 
aroused. 

The  mystery  of  her  operations  was  explained — 


38  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

explained  by  a  deeper  and  a  darker  mystery.  The 
horror  of  the  night  had  been  no  dream  but  an  al- 
most incredible  reality.  He  now  saw  before  him  an 
agent  of  the  man  in  the  cowl ;  he  perceived  that  he 
was  in  some  way  entangled  in  an  affair  vastly  more 
complex  and  sinister  than  a  case  of  petty  larceny. 

"Has  the  golden  scorpion  anything  to  do  with  the 
matter?"  he  demanded  abruptly. 

And  in  the  eyes  of  his  beautiful  captive  he  read 
the  answer.  She  flinched  again  as  she  had  done 
when  he  had  taunted  her  with  being  a  thief ;  but  he 
pressed  his  advantage  remorselessly. 

"So  you  were  concerned  in  the  death  of  Sir  Frank 
Narcombe !"  he  said. 

"I  was  not!"  she  cried  at  him  fiercely,  and  her 
widely  opened  eyes  were  magnificent.  "Sir  Frank 
Narcombe  is " 

She  faltered — and  ceased  speaking,  biting  her  lip 
which  had  become  tremulous  again. 

"Sir  Frank  Narcombe  is?"  prompted. Stuart,  feel 
ing  himself  to  stand  upon  the  brink  of  a  revelation. 

"I  know  nothing  of  him — this  Sir  Frank  Nar- 
combe." 

Stuart  laughed  unmirthfully. 

"Am  I,  by  any  chance,  in  danger  of  sharing  the 
fate  of  that  distinguished  surgeon  ?"  he  asked. 

His  question  produced  an  unforeseen  effect.  Mile. 
Dorian  suddenly  rested  her  jewelled  hands  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  he  found  himself  looking  hungrily 
into  those  wonderful  Eastern  eyes. 


THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE  39 

"If  I  swear  that  I  speak  the  truth,  will  you  believe 
me?"  she  whispered,  and  her  fingers  closed  convul- 
sively upon  his  shoulders. 

He  was  shaken.  Her  near  presence  was  intoxi- 
cating. "Perhaps,"  he  said  unsteadily. 

"Listen,  then.  Now  you  are  in  danger,  yes.  Be- 
fore, you  were  not,  but  now  you  must  be  very  care- 
ful. Oh !  indeed,  indeed,  I  tell  you  true !  I  tell  you 
for  your  own  sake.  Do  with  me  what  you  please. 
I  do  not  care.  It  does  not  matter.  You  ask  me 
why  I  come  here.  I  tell  you  that  also.  I  come  for 
what  is  in  the  long  envelope — look,  I  cannot  hide  it. 
It  is  on  the  fire !" 

Stuart  turned  and  glanced  toward  the  grate.  A 
faint  wisp  of  brown  smoke  was  arising  from  a  long 
white  envelope  which  lay  there.  Had  the  fire  been 
actually  burning,  it  must  long  ago  have  been 
destroyed.  More  than  ever  mystified,  for  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  envelope  was  not  evident  to  him,  he  ran 
to  the  grate  and  plucked  the  smouldering  paper  from 
the  embers. 

As  he  did  so,  the  girl,  with  one  quick  glance  in 
his  direction,  snatched  her  cloak,  keys  and  bag  and 
ran  from  the  room.  Stuart  heard  the  door  close, 
and  racing  back  to  the  table  he  placed  the  slightly 
charred  envelope  there  beside  the  fragment  of  gold 
and  leapt  to  the  door. 

"Damn !"  he  said. 

His  escaped  prisoner  had  turned  the  key  on  the 
outside.  He  was  locked  in  his  own  study! 


40  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Momentarily  nonplussed,  he  stood  looking  at  the 
closed  door.  The  sound  of  a  restarted  motor  from 
outside  the  house  spurred  him  to  action.  He  switched 
off  the  lamps,  crossed  the  darkened  room  and  drew 
back  the  curtain,  throwing  open  the  French  windows. 
Brilliant  moonlight  bathed  the  little  lawn  with  its 
bordering  of  high  privet  hedges.  Stuart  ran  out 
as  the  sound  of  the  receding  car  reached  his  ears. 
By  the  time  that  he  had  reached  the  front  of  the 
house  the  street  was  vacant  from  end  to  end.  He 
walked  up  the  steps  to  the  front  door,  which  he  un- 
fastened with  his  latch-key.  As  he  entered  the  hall, 
Mrs.  M'Gregor  appeared  from  her  room. 

"I  did  no'  hear  ye  go  out  with  Miss  Dorian,"  she 
said. 

"That's  quite  possible,  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  but  she 
has  gone,  you  see. 

"Now  tell  me,  Mr.  Keppel,  did  ye  or  did  ye  no* 
hear  the  wail  o'  the  pibroch  the  night?" 

"No — I  am  afraid  I  cannot  say  that  I  did,  Mrs. 
M'Gregor,"  replied  Stuart  patiently.  "I  feel  sure 
you  must  be  very  tired  and  you  can  justifiably  turn 
in  now.  I  am  expecting  no  other  visitor.  Good- 
night." 

Palpably  dissatisfied  and  ill  at  ease,  Mrs.  M'Gregor 
turned  away. 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Keppel,"  she  said. 

Stuart,  no  longer  able  to  control  his  impatience, 
hurried  to  the  study  door,  unlocked  it  and  entered. 
Turning  on  the  light,  he  crossed  and  hastily  drew  the 


THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE  41 

curtains  over  the  window  recess,  but  without  troubl- 
ing to  close  the  window  which  he  had  opened.  Then 
he  returned  to  the  writing-table  and  took  up  the 
sealed  envelope  whose  presence  in  his  bureau  was 
clearly  responsible  for  the  singular  visitation  of  the 
cowled  man  and  for  the  coming  of  the  lovely  Mile. 
Dorian. 

The  "pibroch  of  the  M'Gregors" :  He  remembered 
something  —  something  which,  unacountably,  he 
hitherto  had  failed  to  recall:  that  fearful  wailing 
in  the  night — which  had  heralded  the  coming  of  the 
cowled  man ! — or  had  it  been  a  signal  of  some  kind  ? 

He  stared  at  the  envelope  blankly,  then  laid  it 
down  and  stood  looking  for  some  time  at  the  golden 
scorpion's  tail.  Finally,  his  hands  resting  upon  the 
table,  he  found  that  almost  unconsciously  he  had 
been  listening — listening  to  the  dim  night  sounds  of 
London  and  to  the  vague  stirrings  within  the  house. 

"Now,  you  are  in  danger.  Before,  you  were 
not.  .  .  ." 

Could  he  believe  her?  If  in  naught  else,  in  this 
at  least  surely  she  had  been  sincere  ?  Stuart  started 
— then  laughed  grimly. 

A  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  had  chimed  the  half- 
hour. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER 

ETECTIVE-INSPECTOR  DUNBAR  ar- 
rived at  New  Scotland  Yard  in  a  veritable 
fever  of  excitement.  Jumping  out  of  the  cab 
he  ran  into  the  building  and  without  troubling  the 
man  in  charge  of  the  lift  went  straight  on  upstairs  to 
his  room.  He  found  it  to  be  in  darkness  and  switched 
on  the  green-shaded  lamp  which  was  suspended 
above  the  table.  Its  light  revealed  a  bare  apartment 
having  distempered  walls  severely  decorated  by  an 
etching  of  a  former  and  unbeautiful  Commissioner. 
The  blinds  were  drawn.  A  plain,  heavy  deal  table 
(bearing  a  blotting-pad,  a  pewter  ink-pot,  several 
pens  and  a  telephone),  together  with  three  uncom- 
fortable chairs,  alone  broke  the  expanse  of  highly 
polished  floor.  Dunbar  glanced  at  the  table  and 
then  stood  undecided  in  the  middle  of  the  bare  room, 
tapping  his  small,  widely  separated  teeth  with  a  pen- 
cil which  he  had  absently  drawn  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket.  He  rang  the  bell. 

A  constable  came  in  almost  immediately  and  stood 
waiting  just  inside  the  door. 

"When    did    Sergeant    Sowerby    leave?"    asked 
Dunbar. 

"About  three  hours  ago,  sir." 

42 


THE  ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER     43 

"What !"  cried  Dunbar.  "Three  hours  ago !  But 
I  have  been  here  myself  within  that  time — in  the 
Commissioner's  office." 

"Sergeant  Sowerby  left  before  then.    I  saw  him 

go." 

"But,  my  good  fellow,  he  has  been  back  again. 
He  spoke  to  me  on  the  telephone  less  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago." 

"Not  from  here,  sir." 

"But  I  say  it  was  from  here!"  shouted  Dunbar 
fiercely ;  "and  I  told  him  to  wait  for  me." 

"Very  good,  sir.    Shall  I  make  inquiries?" 

"Yes.  Wait  a  minute.  Is  the  Commissioner 
here?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  believe  so.  At  least  I  have  not  seen 
him  go." 

"Find  Sergeant  Sowerby  and  tell  him  to  wait  here 
for  me,"  snapped  Dunbar. 

He  walked  out  into  the  bare  corridor  and  along 
to  the  room  of  the  Assistant  Commissioner.  Knock- 
ing upon  the  door,  he  opened  it  immediately,  and 
entered  an  apartment  which  afforded  a  striking  con- 
trast to  his  own.  For  whereas  the  room  of  Inspector 
Dunbar  was  practically  unfurnished,  that  of  his 
superior  was  so  filled  with  tables,  cupboards,  desks, 
bureaux,  files,  telephones,  bookshelves  and  stacks  of 
documents  that  one  only  discovered  the  Assistant 
Commisioner  sunk  deep  in  a  padded  armchair  and 
a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke  by  dint  of  close  scrutiny. 
The  Assistant  Commissioner  was  small,  sallow  and 


44  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

satanic.  His  black  moustache  was  very  black  and 
his  eyes  were  of  so  dark  a  brown  as  to  appear  black 
a'so.  When  he  smiled  he  revealed  a  row  of  very 
large  white  teeth,  and  his  smile  was  correctly  Me- 
phistophelean. He  smoked  a  hundred  and  twenty 
Egyptian  cigarettes  per  diem,  and  the  first  and 
second  fingers  of  either  hand  were  coffee-coloured. 

"Good-evening,  Inspector,"  he  said  courteously. 
"You  come  at  an  opportune  moment."  He  lighted  a 
fresh  cigarette.  "I  was  detained  here  unusually  late 
to-night  or  this  news  would  not  have  reached  us  till 
the  morning."  He  laid  his  finger  upon  a  yellow  form. 
"There  is  an  unpleasant  development  in  'The  Scor- 
pion' case." 

"So  I  gather,  sir.  That  is  what  brought  me  back 
to  the  Yard." 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  glanced  up  sharply. 

"What  brought  you  back  to  the  Yard?"  he  asked. 

"The  news  about  Max." 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  leaned  back  in  his 
chair.  "Might  I  ask,  Inspector,"  he  said,  "what  news 
you  have  learned  and  how  you  have  learned  it?" 

Dunbar  stared  uncomprehendingly. 

"Sowerby  'phoned  me  about  half  an  hour  ago, 
sir.  Did  he  do  so  without  your  instructions?" 

"Most  decidedly.    What  was  his  message?" 

"He  told  me,"  replied  Dunbar,  in  ever-growing 
amazement,  "that  the  body  brought  in  by  the  River 
Police  last  night  had  been  identified  as  that  of  Gaston 
Max." 


THE  ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER     45 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  handed  a  pencilled 
slip  to  Dunbar.  It  read  as  follows  :  — 

"Gaston  Max  in  London.  Scorpion,  Narcombe. 
No  report  since  3Oth  ult.  Fear  trouble.  Identity- 
disk  G.  M.  49685." 

"But,  sir,"  said  Dunbar  —  "this  is  exactly  what 
Sowerby  told  me  !" 

"Quite  so.  That  is  the  really  extraordinary  feat- 
ure of  the  affair.  Because,  you  see,  Inspector,  I 
only  finished  decoding  this  message  at  the  very  mom- 
ent that  you  knocked  at  my  door  !" 


"There  is  no  room  for  a  'but/  Inspector.  This 
confidential  message  from  Paris  reached  me  ten 
minutes  ago.  You  know  as  well  as  I  know  that  thert 
is  no  possibility  of  leakage.  No  one  has  entered  my 
room  in  the  interval,  yet  you  tell  me  that  Sergeant 
Sowerby  communicated  this  information  to  you,  by 
telephone,  half  an  hour  ago." 

Dunbar  was  tapping  his  teeth  with  the  pencil.  His 
amazement  was  too  great  for  words. 

"Had  the  message  been  a  false  one,"  continued  the 
Commissioner,  "the  matter  would  have  been  resolved 
into  a  meaningless  hoax,  but  the  message  having  been 
what  it  was,  we  find  ourselves  face  to  face  with  no 
ordinary  problem.  Remember,  Inspector,  that  voices 
on  the  telephone  are  deceptive.  Sergeant  Sowerby 
has  marked  vocal  mannerisms  -  " 

"Which  would  be  fairly  easy  to  imitate?  Yes. 
sir—  that's  so." 


46  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"But  it  brings  us  no  nearer  to  the  real  problems ; 
viz.,  first,  the  sender  of  the  message;  and,  second, 
his  purpose." 

There  was  a  dull  purring  sound  and  the  Assistant 
Commissioner  raised  the  telephone. 

"Yes.  Who  is  it  that  wishes  to  speak  to  him? 
Dr.  Keppel  Stuart?  Connect  with  my  office." 

He  turned  again  to  Dunbar. 

"Dr.  Stuart  has  a  matter  of  the  utmost  urgency  to 
communicate,  Inspector.  It  was  at  the  house  of 
Dr.  Stuart,  I  take  it,  that  you  received  the  unex- 
plained message?" 

"It  was — yes." 

"Did  you  submit  to  Dr.  Stuart  the  broken  gold 
ornament  ?" 

"Yes.     It's  a  scorpion's  tail." 

"Ah !"  The  Assistant  Commissioner  smiled  satan- 
ically  and  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette.  "And  is  Dr. 
Stuart  agreeable  to  placing  his  unusual  knowledge 
at  our  disposal  for  the  purposes  of  this  case?" 

"He  is,  sir." 

The  purring  sound  was  repeated. 

"You  are  through  to  Dr.  Stuart,"  said  the  As- 
sistant Commissioner. 

"Hullo!"  cried  Dunbar,  taking  up  the  receiver — 
"is  that  Dr.  Stuart?  Dunbar  speaking." 

He  stood  silent  for  a  while,  listening  to  the  voice 
over  the  wires.  Then:  "You  want  me  to  come 
around  now,  doctor?  Very  well.  I'll  be  with  you 
in  less  than  half  an  hour." 


THE  ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER     4? 

He  put  down  the  instrument. 

"Something  extraordinary  seems  to  have  taken 
place  at  Dr.  Stuart's  house  a  few  minutes  after  I 
left,  sir,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  back  there,  now,  for 
particulars.  It  sounds  as  though  the  'phone  message 
might  have  been  intended  to  get  me  away."  He 
stared  down  at  the  pencilled  slip  which  the  Assistant 
Commissioner  had  handed  to  him,  but  stared  vacant- 
ly, and:  "Do  you  mind  if  I  call  someone  up,  sir?" 
he  asked.  "It  should  be  done  at  once." 

"Call  by  all  means,  Inspector." 

Dunbar  again  took  up  the  telephone. 

"Battersea  0996,"  he  said,  and  stood  waiting. 
Then: 

"Is  that  Battersea  0996?"  he  asked.  "Is  Dr. 
Stuart  there?  He  is  speaking?  Oh,  this  is  Inspec- 
tor Dunbar.  You  called  me  up  here  at  the  Yard  a 
few  moments  ago,  did  you  not?  Correct,  doctor; 
that's  all  I  wanted  to  know.  I  am  coming  now." 

"Good,"  said  the  Assistant  Commissioner,  nodding 
his  approval.  "You  will  have  to  check  'phone  mes- 
sages in  that  way  until  you  have  run  your  mimic  to 
earth,  Inspector.  I  don't  believe  for  a  moment  that 
it  was  Sergeant  Sowerby  who  rang  you  up  at  Dr. 
Stuart's." 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  Dunbar  grimly.  "But  I 
begin  to  have  a  glimmer  of  a  notion  who  it  was. 
I'll  be  saying  good-night,  sir.  Dr.  Stuart  seems  to 
have  something  very  important  to  tell  me." 

As  a  mere  matter  of  form  he  waited  for  the  report 


48  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

of  the  constable  who  had  gone  in  quest  of  Sowerby, 
but  it  merely  confirmed  the  fact  that  Sowerby  had 
left  Scotland  Yard  over  three  hours  earlier.  Dunbar 
summoned  a  taxicab  and  proceeded  to  the  house  of 
Dr.  Stuart. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONTENTS  OF  THE  SEALED  ENVELOPE 

STUART    personally     admitted    Dunbar,    and 
once  more  the  Inspector  found  himself  in  the 
armchair  in  the  study.    The  fire  was  almost  out 
and  the   room   seemed  to  be   chilly.      Stuart  was 
labouring  under  the  influence  of  suppressed  excite- 
ment and  was  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
floor. 

"Inspector,"  he  began,  "I  find  it  difficult  to  tell 
you  the  facts  which  have  recently  come  to  my  know- 
ledge bearing  upon  this  most  mysterious  'Scorpion' 
case.  I  clearly  perceive,  now,  that  without  being 
aware  of  the  fact  I  have  nevertheless  been  concerned 
in  the  case  for  at  least  a  week." 

Dunbar  stared  surprisedly,  but  offered  no  corm 
ment. 

"A  fortnight  ago,"  Stuart  continued,  "I  found 
myself  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  West  India 
Docks.  I  had  been  spending  the  evening  with  a  very 
old  friend,  chief  officer  of  a  liner  in  dock.  I  had 
intended  to  leave  the  ship  at  about  ten  o'clock  and 
to  walk  to  the  railway  station,  but,  as  it  fell  out,  the 
party  did  not  break  up  until  after  midnight.  Declin- 
ing the  offer  of  a  berth  on  board,  I  came  ashore 
determined  to  rnak?  my  way  home  by  tram  and 

49 


50  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

afoot.  I  should  probably  have  done  so  and  have 
been  spared — much ;  but  rain  began  to  fall  suddenly 
and  I  found  myself,  foolishly  unprovided  with  a 
top-coat,  in  those  grey  East  End  streets  without 
hope  of  getting  a  lift. 

"It  was  just  as  I  was  crossing  Limehouse  Cause- 
way that  I  observed,  to  my  astonishment,  the  head- 
lamps of  a  cab  or  car  shining  out  from  a  dark  and 
forbidding  thoroughfare  which  led  down  to  the 
river.  The  sight  was  so  utterly  unexpected  that  I 
paused,  looking  through  the  rainy  mist  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  stationary  vehicle.  I  was  still  unable 
to  make  out  if  it  were  a  cab  or  a  car,  and  accord- 
ingly I  walked  along  to  where  it  stood  and  found 
that  it  was  a  taxicab  and  apparently  for  hire. 

"  'Are  you  disengaged  ?'  I  said  to  the  man. 

"  'Well,  sir,  I  suppose  I  am,'  was  his  curious  reply. 
'Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?' 

"I  gave  him  this  address  and  he  drove  me  home. 
On  arriving,  so  grateful  did  I  feel  that  I  took  pity 
upon  the  man,  for  it  had  settled  down  into  a  brute 
of  a  night,  and  asked  him  to  come  in  and  take  a 
glass  of  grog.  He  was  only  too  glad  to  do  so.  He 
turned  out  to  be  quite  an  intelligent  sort  of  fellow, 
and  we  chatted  together  for  ten  minutes  or  so. 

"I  had  forgotten  all  about  him  when,  I  believe 
on  the  following  night,  he  reappeared  in  the  charac- 
ter of  a  patient.  He  had  a  badly  damaged  skull,  and 
I  gathered  that  he  had  had  an  accident  with  his 
cab  and  had  been  pitched  out  into  the  road. 


CONTENTS  OF  SEALED  ENVELOPE   51 

"When  I  had  fixed  him  up,  he  asked  me  to  do 
him  a  small  favour.  From  inside  his  tunic  he  pulled 
out  a  long  stiff  envelope,  bearing  no  address  but 
the  number  30  in  big  red  letters.  It  was  secured 
at  both  ends  with  black  wax  bearing  the  imprint 
of  a  curious  and  complicated  seal. 

"  'A  gentleman  left  this  behind  in  the  cab  to-day, 
sir,'  said  the  man — 'perhaps  the  one  who  was  with 
me  when  I  had  the  spill,  and  I've  got  no  means  of 
tracing  him;  but  he  may  be  able  to  trace  me  if  he 
happened  to  notice  my  number,  or  he  may  advertise. 
It  evidently  contains  something  valuable.' 

"'Then  why  not  take  it  to  Scotland  Yard?'  I 
asked.  'Isn't  that  the  proper  course?' 

"'It  is,'  he  admitted;  'but  here's  the  point:  if 
the  owner  reclaims  it  from  Scotland  Yard  he's  less 
likely  to  dub  up  handsome  than  if  he  gets  it  direct 
from  me !' 

"I  laughed  at  that,  for  the  soundness  of  the  argu- 
ment was  beyond  dispute.  'But  what  on  earth  do 
you  want  to  leave  it  with  me  for?'  I  asked. 

"  'Self-protection,'  was  the  reply.  'They  can't 
say  I  meant  to  pinch  it !  Whereas,  directly  there's 
any  inquiry  I  can  come  and  collect  it  and  get  the 
reward  ;  and  your  word  will  back  me  up  if  any  ques- 
tions are  asked ;  that's  if  you  don't  mind,  sir/ 

"I  told  him  I  didn't  mind  in  the  least,  and  accord- 
ingly I  sealed  the  envelope  in  a  yet  larger  one  which 
I  addressed  to  the  Lost  Property  Office  and  put  into 
a  private  drawer  of  my  bureau.  'You  will  have  no 


52  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

objection,*  I  said,  'to  this  being  posted  if  it  isn't 
reclaimed  within  a  reasonable  time?' 

"He  said  that  would  be  all  right  and  departed — 
since  which  moment  I  have  not  set  eyes  upon  him. 
I  now  come  to  the  sequel,  or  what  I  have  just  recog- 
nized to  be  the  sequel." 

Stuart's  agitation  grew  more  marked  and  it  was 
only  by  dint  of  a  palpable  effort  that  he  forced  him- 
self to  resume. 

"On  the  evening  of  the  following  day  a  lady 
called  professionally.  She  was  young,  pretty,  and 
dressed  with  extraordinary  elegance.  My  house- 
keeper admitted  her,  as  I  was  out  at  the  time  but 
momentarily  expected.  She  awaited  my  return  here, 
in  this  room.  She  came  again  two  days  later.  The 
name  she  gave  was  an  odd  one :  Mademoiselle 
Dorian.  There  is  her  card," — Stuart  opened  i  drawer 
and  laid  a  visiting-card  before  Dunbar — "no  initials 
and  no  address.  She  travelled  in  a  large  and  hand- 
some car.  That  is  to  say,  according  to  my  house- 
keeper's account  it  is  a  large  and  handsome  car.  I 
personally,  have  had  but  an  imperfect  glimpse  of  it. 
It  does  not  await  her  in  front  of  the  house,  for 
some  reason,  but  just  around  the  corner  in  the  side 
turning.  Beyond  wondering  why  Mademoiselle 
Dorian  had  selected  me  as  her  medical  adviser  I  had 
detected  nothing  suspicious  in  her  behaviour  up  to 
the  time  of  which  I  am  about  to  speak. 

"Last  night  there  was  a  singular  development,  and 
to-night  matters  came  to  a  head." 


CONTENTS  OF  SEALED  ENVELOPE   53 

Thereupon  Stuart  related  as  briefly  as  possible  the 
mysterious  episode  of  the  cowled  man,  and  finally 
gave  an  account  of  the  last  visit  of  Mile.  Dorian. 
Inspector  Dunbar  did  not  interrupt  him,  but  listened 
attentively  to  the  singular  story. 

"And  there,"  concluded  Stuart,  "on  the  blotting-- 
pad, lies  the  sealed  envelope!" 

Dunbar  took  it  up  eagerly.  A  small  hole  had  been 
burned  in  one  end  of  the  envelope  and  much  of  the 
surrounding  paper  was  charred.  The  wax  with 
which  Stuart  had  sealed  it  had  lain  uppermost,  and 
although  it  had  been  partly  melted,  the  mark  of  his 
signet-ring  was  still  discernible  upon  it.  Dunbar 
stood  staring  at  it. 

"In  the  circumstances,  Inspector,  I  think  you 
would  be  justified  in  opening  both  envelopes,"  said 
Stuart. 

"I  am  inclined  to  agree.  But  let  me  just  be  clear 
on  one  or  two  points."  He  took  out  the  bulging 
note-book  and  also  a  fountain-pen  with  which  he 
prepared  to  make  entries.  "About  this  cabman, 
now.  You  didn't  by  any  chance  note  the  number  of 
his  cab?" 

"I  did  not." 

"What  build  of  a  man  was  he?" 

"Over  medium  height  and  muscular.  Somewhat 
inclined  to  iiesh  and  past  his  youth,  but  active  all 
the  same." 

"Dark  or  fair?" 

"Dark  and  streaked  with  grey.  I  noted  this  par- 


54  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

ticularly  in  dressing  his  skull.  He  wore  his  hair 
cropped  close  to  the  scalp.  He  had  a  short  beard 
and  moustache  and  heavily  marked  eyebrows.  He 
seemed  to  be  very  short-sighted  and  kept  his  eyes  so 
screwed  up  that  it  was  impossible  to  detect  their 
colour,  by  night  at  any  rate." 

"What  sort  of  wound  had  he  on  his  skull  ?" 

"A  short  ugly  gash.  He  had  caught  his  head  on 
the  footboard  in  falling.  I  may  add  that  on  the 
occasion  of  his  professional  visit  his  breath  smelled 
strongly  of  spirits,  and  I  rather  suspected  that  his 
accident  might  have  been  traceable  to  his  condition." 

"But  he  wasn't  actually  drunk?" 

"By  no  means.  He  was  perfectly  sober,  but  he 
had  recently  been  drinking — possibly  because  his  fail 
had  shaken  him,  of  course." 

"His  hands?" 

"Small  and  very  muscular.  Quite  steady.  Also 
very  dirty." 

"What  part  of  the  country  should  you  say  he 
hailed  from?" 

"London.  He  had  a  marked  cockney  accent." 

"What  make  of  cab  was  it?" 

"I  couldn't  say." 

"An  old  cab?" 

"Yes.  The  fittings  were  dilapidated,  I  remember, 
and  the  cab  had  a  very  musty  smell." 

"Ah,"  said  Dunbar,  making  several  notes.  "And 
now — the  lady :  about  what  would  be  her  age  ?" 

"Difficult  to  say,   Inspector.     She  had  Eastern 


CONTENTS  OF  SEALED  ENVELOPE  55 

blood  and  may  have  been  much  younger  than  she 
appeared  to  be.  Judged  from  a  European  standpoint 
and  from  her  appearance  and  manner  of  dress,  she 
might  be  about  twenty-three  or  twenty- four." 

"Complexion  ?" 

"Wonderful.     Fresh  as  a  flower." 

"Eyes?" 

"Dark.   They  looked  black  at  night." 

"Hair?" 

"Brown  and  'fuzzy'  with  copper  tints." 

"Tall?" 

"No;  slight  but  beautifully  shaped." 

"Now — from  her  accent  what  should  you  judge 
her  nationality  to  be  ?" 

Stuart  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  his  bead 
lowered  in  reflection,  then : 

"She  pronounced  both  English  and  French  words 
with  an  intonation  which  suggested  familiarity  with 
Arabic." 

"Arabic?    That  still  leaves  a  fairly  wide  field." 

"It  does,  Inspector,  but  I  had  no  means  of  learn- 
ing more.  She  had  certainly  lived  for  a  long  time 
somewhere  in  the  Near  East." 

"Her  jewellery?" 

"Some  of  it  was  European  and  some  of  it  Orien- 
tal, but  not  characteristic  of  any  particular  country 
of  the  Orient." 

"Did  she  use  perfume?" 

"Yes,  but  it  was  scarcely  discernible.  Jasmine— 
probably  the  Eastern  preparation." 


56  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Her  ailment  was  imaginary?" 

"I  fear  so." 

"H'm — and  now  you  say  that  Mrs.  M'Gregor  sa\» 
the  car?" 

"Yes,  but  she  has  retired." 

"Her  evidence  will  do  to-morrow.  We  come  to 
the  man  in  the  hood.  Can  you  give  me  any  kind 
of  a  description  of  him?" 

"He  appeared  to  be  tall,  but  a  shadow  is  deceptive, 
and  his  extraordinary  costume  would  produce  that 
effect,  too.  I  can  tell  you  absolutely  nothing  further 
about  him.  Remember,  I  thought  I  was  dreaming. 
I  could  not  credit  my  senses." 

Inspector  Dunbar  glanced  over  the  notes  which  he 
had  made,  then  returning  the  note-book  and  pen  to 
his  pocket,  he  took  up  the  long  smoke-discoloured 
envelope  and  with  a  paper-knife  which  lay  upon  the 
table  slit  one  end  open.  Inserting  two  fingers,  he 
drew  out  the  second  envelope  which  the  first  en- 
closed. It  was  an  ordinary  commercial  envelope 
only  notable  by  reason  of  the  number,  30,  appearing 
in  large  red  figures  upon  it  and  because  it  was  sealed 
with  black  wax  bearing  a  weird-looking  device  • 


CONTENTS  OF  SEALED  ENVELOPE  57 

Stuart  bent  over  him  intently  as  he  slit  this  en- 
velope in  turn.  Again,  he  inserted  two  fingers — and 
brought  forth  the  sole  contents.  .  .  a  plain  piece  of 
cardboard,  roughly  rectangular  and  obviously  cut 
in  haste  from  the  lid  of  a  common  cardboard  boxl 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  ASSISTANT   COMMISSIONER'S  THEORY 

ON  the  following  morning  Inspector  Dunbar, 
having  questioned  Mrs.  M'Gregor  respecting 
the  car  in  which  Mile.  Dorian  had  visited  the 
house  and  having  elicited  no  other  evidence  than 
that  it  was  "a  fine  luxurious  concern,"  the  Inspector 
and  Dr.  Stuart  prepared  to  set  out  upon  gruesome 
business.    Mrs.  M'Gregor  was  very  favourably  im- 
pressed with  the  Inspector.    "A  grand,  pairsonable 
body,"  she  confided  to  Stuart.    "He'd  look  bonny  in 
the  kilt." 

To  an  East-End  mortuary  the  cab  bore  them,  and 
they  were  led  by  a  constable  in  attendance  to  a  stone- 
paved,  ill-lighted  apartment  in  which  a  swathed 
form  lay  upon  a  long  deal  table.  The  spectacle 
presented,  when  the  covering  was  removed,  was  one 
to  have  shocked  less  hardened  nerves  than  those  of 
Stuart  and  Dunbar ;  but  the  duties  of  a  police  officer, 
like  those  of  a  medical  man,  not  infrequently  neces- 
sitate such  inspections.  The  two  bent  over  the 
tragic  flotsam -of  the  Thames  unmoved  and  critical. 
"H'm,"  said  Stuart — "he's  about  the  build,  cer- 
tainly. Hair  iron-grey  and  close  cropped  and  he 
seems  to  have  worn  a  beard.  Now.  let  us  see." 

58 


ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER'S  THEORY  59 

He  bent,  making  a  close  inspection  of  the  skull ; 
then  turned  and  shook  his  head. 

"No.  Inspector,"  he  said  definitely.  "This  is  not 
the  cabman.  There  is  no  wound  corresponding  to 
the  one  which  I  dressed." 

"Right,"  answered  Dunbar,  covering  up  the 
ghastly  face.  "That's  settled." 

"You  were  wrong,  Inspector.  It  was  not  Gaston 
Max  who  left  the  envelope  with  me." 

"No,"  mused  Dunbar,  "so  it  seems." 

"Your  theory  that  Max,  jealously  working  alone, 
had  left  particulars  oi  his  inquiries,  and  clues,  in  my 
hands,  knowing  that  they  would  reach  Scotland  Yard 
in  the  event  of  his  death,  surely  collapsed  when  the 
envelope  proved  to  contain  nothing  but  a  bit  of 
cardboard  ?" 

"Yes — I  suppose  it  did.  But  it  sounded  so  much 
like  Max's  round-about  methods.  Anyway  I  wanted 
to  make  sure  that  the  dead  man  from  Hanover  Hole 
and  your  mysterious  cabman  were  not  one  and  the 
same." 

Stuart  entertained  a  lively  suspicion  that  Inspec- 
tor Dunbar  was  keeping  something  up  his  sleeve, 
but  with  this  very  proper  reticence  he  had  no  quarrel, 
and  followed  by  the  constable,  who  relocked  the 
mortuary  behind  them,  they  came  out  into  the  yard 
where  the  cab  waited  which  was  to  take  them  to 
Scotland  Yard.  Dunbar,  standing  with  one  foot  upon 
the  step  of  the  cab,  turned  to  the  constable. 

"Has  anyone  else  viewed  the  body?"  he  asked. 


.fto  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"No,  sir." 

"No  one  is  to  be  allowed  to  do  so — you  under- 
stand?— no  one,  unless  he  has  written  permission 
from  the  Commissioner." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  arrived  at  New  Scotland 
Yard  and  went  up  to  Dunbar's  room.  A  thick-set, 
florid  man  of  genial  appearance,  having  a  dark 
moustache,  a  breezy  manner  and  a  head  of  hair 
resembling  a  very  hard-worked  blacking-brush, 
awaited  them.  This  was  Detective-Sergeant  Sower- 
by  with  whom  Stuart  was  already  acquainted. 

"Good-morning,  Sergeant  Sowerby,"  be  said. 

"Good-morning,  sir.  I  hear  that  someone  was 
pulling  your  leg  last  night." 

"What  do  you  mean  exactly,  Sowerby  ?"  inquired 
Dunbar,  fixing  his  fierce  eyes  upon  his  subordinate. 

Sergeant  Sowerby  exhibited  confusion. 

"I  mean  nothing  offensive,  Inspector.  I  was 
referring  to  the  joker  who  gave  so  good  an  imitation 
of  my  voice  that  even  you  were  deceived." 

The  subtle  flattery  was  apparently  effective. 

"Ah,"  replied  Dunbar — "I  see.  Yes — he  did  it 
well.  He  spoke  just  like  you.  I  could  hardly  make 
out  a  word  he  said." 

With  this  Caledonian  shaft  and  a  side-glance  at 
Stuart,  Inspector  Dunbar  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"Here's  Dr.  Stuart's  description  of  the  missing 
cabman,"  he  continued,  taking  out  his  note-book. 
"Dr.  Stuart  has  viewed  the  body  and  it  is  not  the 


ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER'S  THEORY  61 

man.    You  had  better  take  a  proper  copy  of  this." 

"Then  the  cabman  wasn't  Max?"  cried  Sowerby 
eagerly.  "I  thought  not." 

"I  believe  you  told  me  so  before,"  said  Dunbar 
sourly.  "I  also  seem  to  recall  that  you  thought  a 
scorpion's  tail  was  a  Prickly  Pear.  However — here, 
on  the  page  numbered  twenty-six,  is  a  description  of 
the  woman  known  as  Mile.  Dorian.  It  should  be  a 
fairly  easy  matter  to  trace  the  car  through  the  usual 
channels,  and  she  ought  to  be  easy  to  find,  too." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch.  Stuart  was  standing  by 
the  lofty  window  looking  out  across  the  Embank- 
ment. 

"Ten  o'clock,"  said  Dunbar.  "The  Commissioner 
will  be  expecting  us." 

"I  am  ready,"  responded  Stuart. 

Leaving  Sergeant  Sowerby  seated  at  the  table 
studying  the  note-book,  Stuart  and  Dunbar  pro- 
ceeded to  the  smoke-laden  room  of  the  Assistant 
Commissioner.  The  great  man,  suavely  satanic, 
greeted  Stuart  with  that  polished  courtesy  for  which 
he  was  notable. 

"You  have  been  of  inestimable  assistance  to  us 
in  the  past,  Dr.  Stuart,"  he  said,  "and  I  feel  happy 
to  know  that  we  are  to  enjoy  the  aid  of  your  special 
knowedge  in  the  present  case.  Will  you  smoke  one 
of  my  cigarettes?  They  are  some  which  a  friend 
is  kind  enough  to  supply  to  me  direct  from  Cairo, 
and  are  really  quite  good." 

"Thanks,"  replied  Stuart.     "May  I  ask  in  jvhat 


62  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

direction  my  services  are  likely  to  prove  available  ?n 

The  Commissioner  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette.  Then 
from  a  heap  of  correspondence  he  selected  a  long 
report  typed  upon  blue  foolscap. 

"I  have  here,"  he  said,  "confirmation  of  the  tele- 
graphic report  received  last  night.  The  name  of  M. 
Gaston  Max  will  no  doubt  be  familiar  to  you?" 

Stuart  nodded. 

"Well,"  continued  the  Commissioner,  "it  appears 
that  he  has  been  engaged  in  England  for  the  past 
month  endeavouring  to  trace  the  connection  which 
he  claims  to  exist  between  the  sudden  deaths  of 
various  notable  people,  recently — a  list  is  appended 
— and  some  person  or  organisation  represented  by, 
or  associated  with,  a  scorpion.  His  personal  theory 
not  being  available — poor  fellow,  you  have  heard  of 
his  tragic  death — I  have  this  morning  consulted  such 
particulars  as  I  could  obtain  respecting  these  cases. 
If  they  were  really  cases  of  assassination,  some  ob- 
scure poison  was  the  only  mode  of  death  that  could 
possibly  have  been  employed.  Do  you  follow  me  ?" 

"Perfectly." 

"Now,  the  death  of  Gaston  Max  under  circum- 
stances not  yet  explained,  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  his  theory  was  a  sound  one.  In  other  words,  I 
am  disposed  to  believe  that  he  himself  represents 
the  most  recent  outrage  of  what  we  will  call  'The 
Scorpion.'  Even  at  the  time  that  the  body  of  the  mar. 
found  by  the  River  Police  had  not  been  identified, 
the  presence  upon  his  person  of  a  fragment  of  gold 


ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER'S  THEORY  63 

strongly  resembling  the  tail  of  a  scorpion  prompted 
me  to  instruct  Inspector  Dunbar  to  consult  you.  I 
had  determined  upon  a  certain  course.  The  identifi- 
cation of  the  dead  man  with  Gaston  Max  merely 
strengthens  my  determination  and  enhances  the  like- 
lihood of  my  idea  being  a  sound  one." 

He  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette  and  resumed : 

"Without  mentioning  names,  the  experts  con- 
sulted in  the  other  cases  which — according  to  the  late 
Gaston  Max — were  victims  of  'The  Scorpion,'  do  not 
seem  to  have  justified  their  titles.  I  am  arranging 
that  you  shall  be  present  at  the  autopsy  upon  the 
body  of  Gaston  Max.  And  now,  permit  me  to  ask 
you  a  question :  are  you  acquainted  with  any  poison 
which  would  produce  the  symptoms  noted  in  the 
case  of  Sir  Frank  Narcombe,  for  instance?" 

Stuart  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"All  that  I  know  of  the  case,"  he  said,  "is  that 
he  was  taken  suddenly  ill  in  the  foyer  of  a  West-End 
theatre,  immediately  removed  to  his  house  in  Half 
Moon  Street,  and  died  shortly  afterwards.  Can  you 
give  me  copies  of  the  specialists'  reports  and  other 
particulars  ?  I  may  then  be  able  to  form  an  opinion." 

"I  will  get  them  for  you,"  replied  the  Commis- 
sioner, the  exact  nature  of  whose  theory  was  by  no 
means  evident  to  Stuart.  He  opened  a  drawer.  "I 
have  here,"  he  continued,  "the  piece  of  cardboard 
and  the  envelope  left  with  you  by  the  missing  cab- 
man. Do  you  think  there  is  any  possibility  of  invis- 
ible writing?" 


64  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"None,"  said  Stuart  confidently.  "I  have  tested 
in  three  or  four  places  as  you  will  see  by  the  spots, 
but  my  experiments  will  in  no  way  interfere  with 
those  which  no  doubt  your  own  people  will  want  to 
make.  I  have  also  submitted  both  surfaces  to  a 
microscopic  examination.  I  am  prepared  to  state 
definitely  that  there  is  no  writing  upon  the  card- 
board, and  except  for  the  number,  30,  none  upon  the 
envelope." 

"It  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose,"  continued  the 
Commisioner,  "that  the  telephone  message  which  led 
Inspector  Dunbar  to  leave  your  house  last  night  was 
originated  by  that  unseen  intelligence  against  which 
we  find  ourselves  pitted.  In  the  first  place,  no 
one  in  London,  myself  and,  presumably,  '  The 
Scorpion'  excepted,  knew  at  that  time  that  M. 
Gaston  Max  was  in  England  or  that  M.  Gaston  Max 
was  dead.  I  say,  presumably  'The  Scorpion'  be- 
cause it  is  fair  to  assume  that  the  person  whom  Max 
pursued  was  responsible  for  his  death. 

"Of  course" — the  Commissioner  reached  for  the 
box  of  cigarettes — "were  it  not  for  the  telephone 
message,  we  should  be  unjustified  in  assuming  that 
Mile.  Dorian  and  this" — he  laid  his  finger  upon  the 
piece  of  cardboard — "had  any  connection  with  the 
case  of  M.  Max.  But  the  message  was  so  obviously 
designed  to  facilitate  the  purloining  of  the  sealed 
envelope  and  so  obviously  emanated  from  one  al- 
ready aware  of  the  murder  of  M.  Max,  that  the 
sender  is  identified  at  once  with — The  Scorpion.' " 


ASSISTANT  COMMISSIONER'S  THEORY  65 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  complacently  lighted 
a  fresh  cigarette. 

"Finally,"  he  said,  "the  mode  of  death  in  the  case 
of  M.  Max  may  not  have  been  the  same  as  in  the 
other  cases.  Therefore,  Dr.  Stuart" — he  paused  im- 
pressively— "if  you  fail  to  detect  anything  suspicious 
at  the  post  mortem  examination  I  propose  to  apply 
to  the  Home  Secretary  for  power  to  exhume  the 
body  of  the  late  Sir  Frank  Narcombe !" 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    CHINESE    COIN 

DEEP  in  reflection,  Stuart  walked  alone  along 
the  Embankment.  The  full  facts  contained  in 
the  report  from  Paris  the  Commissioner  had 
not  divulged,  but  Stuart  concluded  that  this  sudden 
activity  was  directly  due,  not  to  the  death  of  M. 
Max,  but  to  the  fact  that  he  (Max)  had  left  behind 
him  some  more  or  less  tangible  clue.     Stuart  fully 
recognized  that  the  Commissioner  had  accorded  him 
an  opportunity  to  establish  his  reputation — or  to 
wreck  it, 

Yet,  upon  closer  consideration,  it  became  apparent 
that  it  was  to  Fate  and  not  to  the  Commissioner  that 
he  was  indebted.  Strictly  speaking,  his  association 
with  the  matter  dated  from  the  night  of  his  meeting 
with  the  mysterious  cabman  in  West  India  Dock 
Road.  Or  had  the  curtain  first  been  lifted  upon 
this  occult  drama  that  evening,  five  years  ago,  as 
the  setting  sun  reddened  the  waters  of  the  Imperial 
Canal  and  a  veiled  figure  passed  him  on  the  Wu-Men 
Bridge? 

"Shut  your  eyes  tightly,  master — the  Scorpion  is 
coming !" 

He  seemed  to  hear  the  boy's  words  now,  as  he 
passed  along  the  Embankment;  he  seemed  to  see 
again  the  tall  figure.  And  suddenly  he  stopped, 

66 


THE  CHINESE  COIN  67 

stood  still  and  stared  with  unseeing  eyes  across  the 
muddy  waters  of  the  Thames.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  cowled  man  who  had  stood  behind  the  curtains 
in  his  study — of  that  figure  so  wildly  bizarre  that 
even  now  he  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  had  ever 
actually  seen  it.  He  walked  on. 

Automatically  his  reflections  led  him  to  Mile. 
Dorian,  and  he  remembered  that  even  as  he  paced 
along  there  beside  the  river  the  wonderful  mechan- 
ism of  New  Scotland  Yard  was  in  motion,  its  many 
tentacles  seeking — seeking  tirelessly — for  the  girl, 
whose  dark  eyes  haunted  his  sleeping  and  waking 
hours.  He  was  responsible,  and  if  she  were  arrested 
he  would  be  called  upon  to  identify  her.  He  con- 
demned himself  bitterly. 

After  all,  what  crime  had  she  committed?  She 
had  tried  to  purloin  a  letter — which  did  not  belong 
to  Stuart  in  the  first  place.  And  she  had  failed. 
Now — the  police  were  looking  for  her.  His  reflec- 
tions took  a  new  form. 

What  of  Gaston  Max,  foremost  criminologist  in 
Europe,  who  now  lay  dead  and  mutilated  in  an  East- 
End  mortuary?  The  telephone  message  which  had 
summoned  Dunbar  away  had  been  too  opportune  to 
be  regarded  as  a  mere  coincidence.  Mile.  Dorian 
was,  therefore,  an  accomplice  of  a  murderer. 

Stuart  sighed.  He  would  have  given  much — more 
than  he  was  prepared  to  admit  to  himself — to  have 
known  her  to  be  guiltless. 

The  identity  of  the  missing  cabman  now  engaged 


68  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

his  mind.  It  was  quite  possible,  of  course,  that  the 
man  had  actually  found  the  envelope  in  his  cab  and 
was  in  no  other  way  concerned  in  the  matter.  But 
how  had  Mile.  Dorian,  or  the  person  instructing  her, 
traced  the  envelope  to  his  study?  And  why,  if  they 
could  establish  a  claim  to  it,  had  they  preferred  to 
attempt  to  steal  it?  Finally,  why  all  this  disturb- 
ance about  a  blank  piece  of  cardboard? 

A  mental  picture  of  the  envelope  arose  before  him, 
the  number,  30,  written  upon  it  and  the  two  black 
seals  securing  the  lapels.  He  paused  again  in  his 
walk.  His  reflections  had  led  him  to  a  second  definite 
point  and  he  fumbled  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  for  a 
time,  seeking  a  certain  brass  coin  about  the  size  of  a 
halfpenny,  having  a  square  hole  in  the  middle  and 
peculiar  characters  engraved  around  the  squarej  one 
on  each  of  the  four  sides. 

He  failed  to  find  the  coin  in  his  pocket,  however, 
but  he  walked  briskly  up  a  side  street  until  he  came 
to  the  entrance  to  a  tube  station.  Entering  a  public 
telephone  call-box,  he  asked  for  the  number,  City 
400.  Being  put  through  and  having  deposited  the 
necessary  fee  in  the  box: 

"Is  that  the  Commisioner's  Office,  New  Scotland 
Yard?"  he  asked.    "Yes!   My  name  is  Dr.  Keppel 
Stuart.    If  Inspector  Dunbar  is  there,  would  you 
kindly  allow  me  to  speak  to  him." 
There  was  a  short  interval,  then : 
"Hullo!"  came— "is  that  Dr.  Stuart?" 
"Yes.  That  you,  Inspector?  I  have  just  remero- 


THE  CHINESE  COIN  69 

bered  something  which  I  should  have  observed  in 
the  first  place  if  I  had  been  really  wide-awake.  The 
envelope — you  know  the  one  I  mean? — the  one 
bearing  the  number,  30,  has  been  sealed  with  a 
Chinese  coin,  known  as  cash.  I  have  just  recognized 
the  fact  and  thought  it  wise  to  let  you  know  at  once." 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Dunbar. 

"Certain.  If  you  care  to  call  at  my  place  later 
to-day  I  can  show  you  some  cash.  Bring  the  envelope 
with  you  and  you  will  see  that  the  coins  correspond 
to  the  impression  in  the  wax.  The  inscriptions  var> 
in  different  provinces,  but  the  form  of  all  cash  is  the 
same." 

"Very  good.  Thanks  for  letting  me  know  at 
once.  It  seems  to  establish  a  link  with  China,  don't 
you  think?" 

"It  does,  but  it  merely  adds  to  the  mystery." 

Coming  out  of  the  call-box,  Stuart  proceeded 
home,  but  made  one  or  two  professional  visits  before 
he  actually  returned  to  the  house.  He  now  remem- 
bered having  left  this  particular  cash  piece  (which 
he  usually  carried)  in  his  dispensary,  which  satis- 
factorily accounted  for  his  failure  to  find  the  coin  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket.  He  had  broken  the  cork  of  a 
flask,  and  in  the  absence  of  another  of  correct  size 
had  manufactured  a  temporary  stopper  with  a  small 
cork  to  the  top  of  which  he  had  fixed  the  Chinese 
coin  with  a  drawing-pin.  His  purpose  served  he  had 
left  the  extemporised  stopper  lying  somewhere  in 
the  dispensary. 


70  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Stuart's  dispensary  was  merely  a  curtained  recess 
at  one  end  of  the  waiting-room  and  shortly  after 
entering  the  house  he  had  occasion  to  visit  it.  Lying 
upon  a  shelf  among  flasks  and  bottles  was  the  Chi- 
nese coin  with  the  cork  still  attached.  He  took  it  up 
in  order  to  study  the  inscription.  Then : 

"Have  I  cultivated  somnambulism !"  he  muttered. 

Fragments  of  black  sealing-wax  adhered  to  the 
coin! 

Incredulous  and  half  fearful  he  peered  at  it 
closely.  He  remembered  that  the  impression  upon 
the  wax  sealing  the  mysterious  envelope  had  had  a 
circular  depression  in  the  centre.  It  had  been  made 
by  the  head  of  the  drawing-pin! 

He  found  himself  staring  at  the  shelf  immediately 
above  that  upon  which  the  coin  had  lain.  A  stick 
of  black  sealing-wax  used  for  sealing  medicine  was 
thrust  in  beside  a  bundle  of  long  envelopes  in  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  post  his  Infirmary  reports ! 

One  hand  raised  to  his  head,  Stuart  stood  endeav- 
ouring to  marshal  his  ideas  into  some  sane  order. 
Then,  knowing  what  he  should  find,  he  raised  the 
green  baize  curtain  hanging  from  the  lower  shelf, 
which  concealed  a  sort  of  cupboard  containing  mis- 
cellaneous stores  and  not  a  little  rubbish,  including  a 
number  of  empty  cardboard  boxes. 

A  rectangular  strip  had  been  roughly  cut  from 
the  lid  of  the  topmost  box! 

The  mysterious  envelope  and  its  contents,  the  wax 
and  the  seal— all  had  come  from  his  own  dispensary  I 


CHAPTER  X 
"CLOSE  YOUR  SHUTTERS  AT  NIGHT" 

INSPECTOR  DUNBAR  stood  in  the  little  dis- 
pensary tapping  his  teeth  with  the  end  of  a 
fountain-pen. 

"The  last  time  he  visited  you,  doctor — the  time 
when  he  gave  you  the  envelope — did  the  cabman 
wait  here  in  the  waiting-room?" 

"He  did — yes.  He  came  after  my  ordinary  con- 
suiting  hours  and  I  was  at  supper,  I  remember,  as 
I  am  compelled  to  dine  early." 

"He  would  be  in  here  alone?" 

"Yes.     No  one  else  was  in  the  room." 

"Would  he  have  had  time  to  find  the  box,  cut  out 
the  piece  of  cardboard  from  the  lid,  put  it  in  the 
envelope  and  seal  it?" 

"Ample  time.  But  what  could  be  his  object? 
And  why  mark  the  envelope  30  ?" 

"It  was  in  your  consulting-room  that  he  asked 
you  to  take  charge  of  the  envelope?-" 

"Yes." 

"Might  I  take  a  peep  at  the  consulting  room?" 

"Certainly,  Inspector." 

From  the  waiting-room  they  went  up  a  short  flight 
of  stairs  into  the  small  apartment  in  which  Stuart 
saw  his  patients.  Dunbar  looked  slowly  about  him, 

71 


72  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  then  crossed  and 
stared  out  of  the  window  into  the  narrow  lane  below. 

"Where  were  you  when  he  gave  you  the  en- 
velope?" he  snapped  suddenly. 

"At  the  table,"  replied  Stuart  with  surprise. 

"Was  the  table-lamp  alight?" 

"Yes.   I  always  light  it  when  seeing  patients." 

"Did  you  take  the  letter  into  the  study  to  seal  it 
in  the  other  envelope?" 

"I  did,  and  he  came  along  and  witnessed  me  do 
it." 

"Ah,"  said  Dunbar,  and  scribbled  busily  in  his 
note-book.  "We  are  badly  tied  at  Scotland  Yard, 
doctor,  and  this  case  looks  like  being  another  for 
which  somebody  else  will  reap  the  credit.  I  am  going 
to  make  a  request  that  will  surprise  you." 

He  tore  a  leaf  out  of  the  book  and  folded  it  care- 
fully. 

"I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  seal  up  something  and 
lock  it  away !  But  I  don't  think  you'll  be  troubled 
by  cowled  burglars  or  beautiful  women  because  of  it. 
On  this  piece  of  paper  I  have  written — a" — he  ticked 
off  the  points  on  his  fingers :  "what  I  believe  to  be 
the  name  of  the  man  who  cut  out  the  cardboard  and 
sealed  it  in  an  envelope ;  b :  the  name  of  the  cab- 
man ;  and,  c :  the  name  of  the  man  who  rang  me  up 
here  last  night  and  gave  me  information  which  had 
only  just  reached  the  Commissioner.  I'll  ask  you  to 
lock  it  away  until  it's  wanted.,  doctor." 

"Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  replied  Stuart.  "Com« 


"CLOSE  YOUR  SHUTTERS  AT  NIGHT"    73 

into  the  study  and  you  shall  see  me  do  as  you  direct 
I  may  add  that  the  object  to  be  served  is  not  ap- 
parent to  me." 

Entering  the  study,  he  took  an  envelope,  enclosed 
the  piece  of  paper,  sealed  the  lapel  and  locked  tbe 
envelope  in  the  same  drawer  of  the  bureau  whicn 
once  had  contained  that  marked  30, 

"Mile.  Dorian  has  a  duplicate  key  to  this  drawer," 
he  said.  "Are  you  prepared  to  take  the  chance?" 

"Quite,"  replied  Dunbar,  smiling;  "although  my 
information  is  worth  more  than  that  which  she 
risked  so  much  to  steal." 

"It's  most  astounding.  At  every  step  the  darkness 
increases.  Why  should  anyone  have  asked  me  to 
lock  up  a  blank  piece  of  cardboard?" 

"Why,  indeed,"  murmured  Dunbar.  "Well,  I  may 
as  well  get  back.  I  am  expecting  a  report  from 
Sowerby.  Look  after  yourself,  sir.  I'm  inclined  to 
think  your  pretty  patient  was  talking  square  when 
she  told  you  there  might  be  danger." 

Stuart  met  the  glance  of  the  tawny  eyes. 

"What  d'you  mean,  Inspector?  Why  should  / 
be  in  danger?" 

"Because,"  replied  Inspector  Dunbar,  "if  'The 
Scorpion'  is  a  poisoner,  as  the  chief  seems  to  think, 
there's  really  only  one  man  in  England  he  has  to 
fear,  and  that  man  is  Dr.  Keppel  Stuart." 

When  the  Inspector  had  taken  his  departure 
Stuart  stood  for  a  long  time  staring  out  of  the  study 
window  at  the  little  lawn  with  its  bordering  of  high 


74  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

neatly-trimmed  privet  above  which  at  intervals  arose 
the  mop  crowns  of  dwarf  acacias.  A  spell  of  warm 
weather  seemed  at  last  to  have  begun,  and  clouds  of 
gnats  floated  over  the  grass,  their  minute  wings  glit- 
tering in  the  sunshine.  Despite  the  nearness  of 
teeming  streets,  this  was  a  backwater  of  London's 
stream. 

He  sighed  and  returned  to  some  work  which  the 
visit  of  the  Scotland  Yard  man  had  interrupted. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  he  had  occasion  to  visit 
the  institution  to  which  he  had  recently  been  ap- 
pointed as  medical  officer,  and  in  contemplation  of 
the  squalor  through  which  his  steps  led  him  he 
sought  forgetfulness  of  the  Scorpion  problem — and 
of  the  dark  eyes  of  Mile.  Dorian.  He  was  not  en- 
tirely successful,  and  returning  by  a  different  route 
he  lost  himself  in  memories  which  were  sweetly 
mournful. 

A  taxicab  passed  him,  moving  slowly  very  close  to 
the  pavement.  He  scarcely  noted  it  until  it  had 
proceeded  some  distance  ahead  of  him.  Then  its 
slow  progress  so  near  to  the  pavement  at  last  at- 
tracted his  attention,  and  he  stared  vacantly  towards 
the  closed  vehicle. 

Mile.  Dorian  was  leaning  out  of  the  window  and 
looking  back  at  him! 

Stuart's  heart  leapt  high.  For  an  instant  he 
paused,  then  began  to  walk  rapidly  after  the  retreat- 
ing vehicle.  Perceiving  that  she  had  attracted  his 
attention,  the  girl  extended  a  white-gloved  hand 


"CLOSE  YOUR  SHUTTERS  AT  NIGHT"    75 

from  the  window  and  dropped  a  note  upon  the  edge 
of  the  pavement.  Immediately  she  withdrew  into 
the  vehicle — which  moved  away  at  accelerated  speed, 
swung  around  the  next  corner  and  was  gone. 

Stuart  ran  forward  and  picked  up  the  note.  With- 
out pausing  to  read  it,  he  pressed  on  to  the  corner. 
The  cab  was  already  two  hundred  yards  away,  and 
he  recognized  pursuit  to  be  out  of  the  question.  The 
streets  were  almost  deserted  at  the  moment,  and  no 
one  apparently  had  witnessed  the  episode.  He  un- 
folded the  sheet  of  plain  note-paper,  faintly  per- 
fumed with  jasmine,  and  read  the  following,  written 
in  an  uneven  feminine  hand : 

"Close  your  shutters  at  night.  Do  not  think  too 
bad  of  me." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  BLUE  RAY 

DUSK  found  Stuart  in  a  singular  frame  oi 
mind.  He  was  torn  between  duty — or  what  he 
conceived  to  be  his  duty — to  the  community, 
and  .  .  .  something  else.  A  messenger  from  New 
Scotland  Yard  had  brought  him  a  bundle  of  docu- 
ments relating  to  the  case  of  Sir  Frank  Narcombe> 
and  a  smaller  packet  touching  upon  the  sudden  end 
of  Henrik  Ericksen,  the  Norwegian  electrician,  and 
the  equally  unexpected  death  of  the  Grand  Duke 
Ivan.  There  were  medical  certificates,  proceedings 
of  coroners,  reports  of  detectives,  evidence  of  spe- 
cialists and  statements  of  friends,  relatives  and  ser- 
vants of  the  deceased.  A  proper  examination  of  all 
the  documents  represented  many  hours  of  close 
study. 

Stuart  was  flattered  by  the  opinion  held  of  his 
ability  by  the  Assistant  Commissioner,  but  dubious 
of  his  chance  of  detecting  any  flaw  in  the  evidence 
which  had  escaped  the  scrutiny  of  so  many  highly 
trained  observers. 

He  paced  the  study  restlessly.  Although  more 
than  six  hours  had  elapsed,  he  had  not  communi- 
cated to  Scotland  Yard  the  fact  of  his  having  seen 
Mile.  Dorian  that  afternoon.  A  hundred  times  h« 

76 


THE  BLUE  RAY  77 

had  read  the  message,  although  he  knew  it  by  heart, 
knew  the  form  of  every  letter,  the  odd  crossing  of 
the  t's  and  the  splashy  dotting  of  the  i's. 

If  only  he  could  have  taken  counsel  with  someone 
— with  someone  not  bound  to  act  upon  such  infor- 
mation— it  would  have  relieved  his  mental  stress. 
His  ideas  were  so  chaotic  that  he  felt  himself  to  bt 
incapable  of  approaching  the  task  presented  by  the 
pile  of  papers  lying  upon  his  table. 

The  night  was  pleasantly  warm  and  the  sky  cloud- 
less. Often  enough  he  found  himself  glancing  to- 
ward the  opened  French  windows,  and  once  he  had 
peered  closely  across  into  the  belt  of  shadow  below 
the  hedge,  thinking  that  he  had  detected  something 
which  moved  there.  Stepping  to  the  window,  the 
slinking  shape  had  emerged  into  the  moonlight — 
and  had  proclaimed  itself  to  be  that  of  a  black  cat! 

Yet  he  had  been  sorely  tempted  to  act  upon  the 
advice  so  strangely  offered.  He  refrained  from  do- 
ing so,  however,  reflecting  that  to  spend  his  evenings 
with  closed  and  barred  shutters  now  that  a  spell  of 
hot  weather  seemed  to  be  imminent  would  be  in- 
sufferable. Up  and  down  the  room  he  paced  tire- 
lessly, always  confronted  by  the  eternal  problem. 

Forcing  himself  at  last  to  begin  work  if  only  as 
a  sedative,  he  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  turned  off 
the  centre  lamp  and  lighted  the  reading  lamp  upon 
his  table.  He  sat  down  to  consider  the  papers 
bearing  upon  the  death  of  Ericksen.  For  half  an 
hour  he  read  on  steadily  and  made  a  number  of 


78  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

pencil  notes.  Then  he  desisted  and  sat  staring 
straight  before  him. 

What  possible  motive  could  there  be  in  assassinat- 
ing these  people?  The  case  of  the  Grand  Duke 
might  be  susceptible  of  explanation,  but  those  of 
Henrik  Ericksen  and  Sir  Frank  Narcombe  were  not. 
Furthermore  he  could  perceive  no  links  connecting 
the  three,  and  no  reason  why  they  should  have 
engaged  the  attention  of  a  common  enemy.  Such 
crimes  would  seem  to  be  purposeless.  Assuming 
tfiat  "The  Scorpion"  was  an  individual,  that  indi- 
?idual  apparently  was  a  dangerous  homicidal  maniac. 

But,  throughout  the  documents,  he  could  discover 
io  clue  pointing  to  the  existence  of  such  an  entity. 
"The  Scorpion"  might  be  an  invention  of  the  fertile 
orain  of  M.  Gaston  Max;  for  it  had  become  more 
*nd  more  evident,  as  he  had  read,  that  the  attempt 
to  trace  these  deaths  to  an  identical  source  had  origi- 
nated at  the  Service  de  Surete,  and  it  was  from 
Paris  that  the  name  "The  Scorpion"  had  come.  The 
fate  of  Max  was  significant,  of  course.  The  chances 
of  his  death  proving  to  have  been  due  to  accident 
were  almost  negligible  and  the  fact  that  a  fragment 
of  a  golden  scorpion  had  actually  been  found  upon 
his  body  was  certainly  curious. 

"Close  your  shutters  at  night.  .  .  ." 

How  the  words  haunted  him  and  how  hotly  he 
despised  himself  for  a  growing  apprehension  which 
refused  to  be  ignored.  It  was  more  mental  than 
physical,  this  dread  which  grew  with  the  approach 


THE  BLUE  RAY  79 

of  midnight,  and  it  resembled  that  which  had  robbed 
him  of  individuality  and  all  but  stricken  him  inert 
when  he  had  seen  upon  the  moon-bright  screen  of 
the  curtains  the  shadow  of  a  cowled  man. 

Dark  forces  seemed  to  be  stirring,  and  some  un- 
seen menace  crept  near  to  him  out  of  the  darkness. 

The  house  was  of  early  Victorian  fashion  and 
massive  folding  shutters  were  provided  to  close  the 
French  windows.  He  never  used  them,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  but  now  he  tested  the  fastenings  which  kept 
them  in  place  against  the  inner  wall  and  even  moved 
them  in  order  to  learn  if  they  were  still  serviceable. 

Of  all  the  mysteries  which  baffled  him,  that  of  the 
piece  of  cardboard  in  the  envelope  sealed  with  a 
Chinese  coin  was  the  most  irritating.  It  seemed  like 
the  purposeless  trick  of  a  child,  yet  it  had  led  to  the 
presence  of  the  cowled  man — and  to  the  presence  of 
Mile.  Dorian.  Why? 

He  sat  down  at  his  table  again. 

"Damn  the  whole  business!"  he  said.  "It  is 
sending  me  crazy." 

Selecting  from  the  heap  of  documents  a  large 
sheet  of  note-paper  bearing  a  blue  diagram  of  a 
human  bust,  marked  with  figures  and  marginal  notes, 
he  began  to  read  the  report  to  which  it  was  appended 
— that  of  Dr.  Halesowen.  It  stated  that  the  late  Sir 
Frank  Narcombe  had  a  "horizontal"  heart,  slightly 
misplaced  and  dilatated,  with  other  details  which 
really  threw  no  light  whatever  upon  the  cause  of 
his  death. 


80  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"I  have  a  horizontal  heart,"  growled  Stuart — 
"and  considering  my  consumption  of  tobacco  it  is 
certainly  dilatated.  But  I  don't  expect  to  drop  dead 
in  a  theatre  nevertheless." 

He  read  on,  striving  to  escape  from  that  shadowy 
apprehension,  but  as  he  read  he  was  listening  to  the 
night  sounds  of  London,  to  the  whirring  of  distant 
motors,  the  whistling  of  engines  upon  the  railway 
and  dim  hooting  of  sirens  from  the  Thames.  A 
slight  breeze  had  arisen  and  it  rustled  in  the  feathery 
foliage  of  the  acacias  and  made  a  whispering  sound 
as  it  stirred  the  leaves  of  the  privet  hedge. 

The  drone  of  an  approaching  car  reached  his  ears. 
Pencil  in  hand,  he  sat  listening.  The  sound  grew 
louder,  then  ceased.  Either  the  car  had  passed  or 
had  stopped  somewhere  near  the  house.  Came  a  rap 
on  the  door. 

"Yes,"  called  Stuart  and  stood  up,  conscious  of 
excitement. 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  came  in. 

"There  is  nothing  further  you'll  "DC  wanting  to- 
night ?"  she  asked. 

"No,**  said  Stuart,  strangely  disappointed,  but 
smiling  at  the  old  lady  cheerfully.  "I  shall  turn 
in  very  shortly." 

"A  keen  east  wind  has  arisen,"  she  continued, 
severely  eyeing  the  opened  windows,  "and  even  for 
a  medical  man  you  are  strangely  imprudent.  Shall  I 
shut  the  windows  ?" 

"No.  don't  trouble,  Mrs.  M'Gregor.     The  room 


THE  BLUE  RAY  Si 

gets  very  stuffy  with  tobacco  smoke,  and  really  it  is 
quite  a  warm  night.  I  shall  close  them  before  I 
retire,  of  course." 

"Ah  well,"  sighed  Mrs.  M'Gregor,  preparing  to 
depart.  "Good-night,  Mr.  Keppel." 

"Good-night,  Mrs.  M'Gregor." 

She  retired,  and  Stuart  sat  staring  out  into  the 
darkness.  He  was  not  prone  to  superstition,  but  it 
seemed  like  tempting  providence  to  remain  there 
with  the  windows  open  any  longer.  Yet  paradoxi- 
cally, he  lacked  the  moral  courage  to  close  them — to 
admit  to  himself  that  he  was  afraid ! 

The  telephone  bell  rang,  and  he  started  back  in  his 
chair  as  though  to  avoid  a  blow. 

By  doing  so  he  avoided  destruction. 

At  the  very  instant  that  the  bell  rang  out  sharply 
in  the  silence — so  exact  is  the  time-table  of  Kismet — 
a  needle-like  ray  of  blue  light  shot  across  the  lawn 
from  beyond  and  above  the  hedge  and — but  for  that 
nervous  start — must  have  struck  fully  upon  the  back 
of  Stuart's  skull.  Instead,  it  shone  past  his  head, 
which  it  missed  only  by  inches,  and  he  experienced 
a  sensation  as  though  some  one  had  buffeted  him 
upon  the  cheek  furiously.  He  pitched  out  of  his 
chair  and  on  to  the  carpet. 

The  first  object  which  the  ray  touched  was  the 
telephone;  and  next,  beyond  it,  a  medical  diction- 
ary; beyond  that  again,  the  grate,  in  which  a  fire 
was  laid. 

"My  God!"  groaned  Stuart— "what  is  it!" 


82  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

An  intense  crackling  sound  deafened  him,  and  the 
air  of  the  room  seemed  to  have  become  hot  as  that 
of  an  oven.  There  came  a  series  of  dull  reports — 
an  uncanny  wailing  .  .  .  and  the  needle-ray  van- 
ished. A  monstrous  shadow,  moon-cast,  which  had 
lain  across  the  carpet  of  the  lawn — the  shadow  of  a 
cowled  man — vanished  also. 

Clutching  the  side  of  his  head,  which  throbbed 
and  tingled  as  though  from  the  blow  of  an  open 
hand,  Stuart  struggled  to  his  feet.  There  was  smoke 
in  the  room,  a  smell  of  burning  and  of  fusing  metal. 
He  glared  at  the  table  madly. 

The  mouthpiece  of  the  telephone  had  vanished! 

"My  God!"  he  groaned  again,  and  clutched  at 
the  back  of  the  chair. 

His  dictionary  was  smouldering  slowly.  It  had  a 
neat  round  hole  some  three  inches  in  diameter, 
bored  completely  through,  cover  to  cover !  The  fire 
in  the  grate  was  flaring  up  the  chimney ! 

He  heard  the  purr  of  a  motor  in  the  lane  beside 
the  house.  The  room  was  laden  with  suffocating 
fumes.  Stuart  stood  clutching  the  chair  and  striving 
to  retain  composure — sanity.  The  car  moved  out  of 
the  lane. 

Someone  was  running  towards  the  back  gate  of 
the  house  .  .  .  was  scrambling  over  the  hedge  .  .  . 
was  racing  across  the  lawn! 

A  man  burst  into  the  study.  He  was  a  man  of 
somewhat  heavy  build,  clean-shaven  and  inclined  to 
pallor.  The  hirsute  blue  tinge  about  his  lips  and  jaw 


THE  BLUE  RAY  83 

lent  added  vigour  to  a  flexible  but  masterful  mouth. 
His  dark  hair  was  tinged  with  grey,  his  dark  eyes 
were  brilliant  with  excitement.  He  was  very  smartly 
dressed  and  wore  light  tan  gloves.  He  reeled  sud- 
denly, clutching  at  a  chair  for  support. 

"Quick!  quick!"  he  cried — "the  telephone!  .  .  . 
Ah!" 

Just  inside  the  window  he  stood,  swaying  and 
breathing  rapidly,  his  gaze  upon  the  instrument. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  cried — "what  has  happened, 
then!" 

Stuart  stared  at  the  new-comer  dazedly. 

"Hell  has  been  in  my  room !"  he  replied.  "That's 
all!" 

"Ah!"  said  the  stranger — "again  he  eludes  mel 
The  telephone  was  the  only  chance.  Pas  d" blague  I 
we  are  finished !" 

He  dropped  into  a  chair,  removed  his  light  grey 
hat  and  began  to  dry  his  moist  brow  with  a  fine  silk 
handkerchief.  Stuart  stared  at  him  like  a  man  who 
is  stupefied.  The  room  was  still  laden  with  strange 
fumes. 

"Blimey!"  remarked  the  new-comer,  and  his 
Whitechapel  was  as  perfect  as  his  Montmatre.  He 
was  looking  at  the  decapitated  telephone.  "This  is 
a  knock-out !" 

"Might  I  ask,"  said  Stuart,  endeavouring  to  collect 
his  scattered  senses,  "where  you  came  from?" 

"From  up  a  tree!"  was  the  astonishing  reply, 
"It  was  the  only  way  to  get  over  I" 


84  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Up  a  tree!" 

"Exactly.  Yes,  I  was  foolish.  I  am  too  heavy. 
But  what  could  I  do!  We  must  begin  all  over 
again." 

Stuart  began  to  doubt  his  sanity.  This  was  no 
ordinary  man. 

"Might  I  ask,"  he  said,  "who  you  are  and  what 
you  are  doing  in  my  house  ?" 

"Ah!"  The  stranger  laughed  merrily.  "You 
wonder  about  me — I  can  see  it.  Permit  me  to 
present  myself — Gaston  Max,  at  your  service  1" 

"Gaston  Max!"  Stuart  glared  at  the  speaker 
incredulously.  "Gaston  Max!  Why,  I  conduct  a 
post-mortem  examination  upon  Gaston  Max  to- 
morrow, in  order  to  learn  if  he  was  poisoned!" 

"Do  not  trouble,  doctor.  That  poor  fellow  is  not 
Gaston  Max  and  he  was  not  poisoned.  You  may 
accept  my  word  for  it.  I  had  the  misfortune  to 
strangle  him," 


PART    II 

STATEMENT 
OF  M.  GASTON  MAX 


I.    THE  DANCER  OF  MONTMARTRE 
CHAPTER  I 

ZARA  EL-KHALA 

THE  following  statement  which  I,  Gaston  Max, 
am  drawing  up  in  duplicate  for  the  guidance 
of  whoever  may  inherit  the  task  of  tracing 
"The  Scorpion" — a  task  which  I  have  begun — will  be 
lodged — one  copy  at  the  Service  de  Surete  in  Paris, 
and  the  other  copy  with  the  Commissioner  of  Police, 
New  Scotland  Yard.  As  I  apprehend  that  I  may  be 
assassinated  at  any  time,  I  propose  to  put  upon 
record  all  that  I  have  learned  concerning  the  series 
of  murders  which  I  believe  to  be  traceable  to  a 
certain  person.  In  the  event  of  my  death,  my  French 
colleagues  will  open  the  sealed  packet  containing 
this  statement  and  the  English  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner of  the  Special  Branch  responsible  for  inter- 
national affairs  will  receive  instructions  to  open  that 
which  I  shall  have  lodged  at  Scotland  Yard. 

This  matter  properly  commenced,  then,  with  the 
visit  to  Paris,  incognito,  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan, 
that  famous  soldier  of  whom  so  much  was  expected, 
and  because  I  had  made  myself  responsible  for  his 
safety  during  the  time  that  he  remained  in  the 
French  capital,  I  (also  incognito  be  it  understood) 

87 


88  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

struck  up  a  friendship  with  one  Casimir,  the  Grand 
Duke's  valet.  Nothing  is  sacred  to  a  valet,  and  from 
Casimir  I  counted  upon  learning  the  real  reason 
which  had  led  this  nobleman  to  visit  Paris  at  so 
troublous  a  time.  Knowing  the  Grand  Duke  to  be  a 
man  of  gallantry,  I  anticipated  finding  a  woman  in 
the  case — and  I  was  not  wrong. 

Yes,  there  was  a  woman,  and  nom  d'un  nom! 
she  was  beautiful. 

Now  in  Paris  we  have  many  beautiful  women,  and 
in  times  of  international  strife  it  is  true  that  we 
have  had  to  shoot  some  of  them.  For  my  own  part 
I  say  with  joy  that  I  have  never  been  instrumental 
in  bringnig  a  woman  to  such  an  end.  Perhaps  I  am 
sentimental ;  it  is  a  French  weakness ;  but  on  those 
few  occasions  when  I  have  found  a  guilty  woman  in 
my  power — and  she  has  been  pretty — morbleu!  she 
has  escaped !  It  may  be  that  I  have  seen  to  it  that 
she  was  kept  out  of  further  mischief,  but  neverthe- 
less she  has  never  met  a  firing-party  because  of  me. 
Very  well. 

From  the  good  fellow  Casimir  I  learned  that  a 
certain  dancer  appearing  at  one  of  our  Montmartre 
theatres  had  written  to  the  Grand  Duke  craving  the 
honour  of  his  autograph — and  enclosing  her  photo- 
graph. 

Pf !  it  was  enough.  One  week  later  the  autograph 
arrived — attached  to  an  invitation  to  dine  with  the 
Grand  Duke  at  his  hotel  in  Paris.  Yes — he  had  come 
to  Paris.  I  have  said  that  he  was  susceptible  and 


ZARA  EL-KHALA  89 

I  have  said  that  she  was  beautiful.  I  address  my- 
self to  men  of  the  world,  and  I  shall  not  be  in  error 
if  I  assume  that  they  will  say,  "A  wealthy  fool  and 
a  designing  woman.  It  is  an  old  story."  Let  us  see. 

The  confidences  of  Casimir  interested  me  in  more 
ways  than  one.  In  the  first  place  I  had  particular 
reasons  for  suspecting  anyone  who  sought  to  obtain 
access  to  the  Grand  Duke.  These  were  diplomatic. 
And  in  the  second  place  I  had  suspicions  of  Zara 
el-Khala.  These  were  personal. 

Yes — so  she  called  herself — Zara  el-Khala,  which 
in  Arabic  is  "Flower  of  the  Desert."  She  professed 
to  be  an  Egyptian,  and  certainly  she  had  the  long, 
almond-shaped  eyes  of  the  East,  but  her  white  skin 
betrayed  her,  and  I  knew  that  whilst  she  might 
possess  Eastern  blood,  she  was  more  nearly  allied  to 
Europe  than  to  Africa.  It  is  my  business  to  note 
unusual  matters,  you  understand,  and  I  noticed  that 
this  beautiful  and  accomplished  woman  of  whom  all 
Paris  was  beginning  to  speak  rapturously  remained 
for  many  weeks  at  a  small  Montmartre  theatre.  Her 
performance,  which  was  unusually  decorous  for  the 
type  of  establishment  at  which  she  appeared,  had 
not  apparently  led  to  an  engagement  elsewhere. 

This  aroused  the  suspicions  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred. In  the  character  of  a  vaudeville  agent  I 
called  at  the  Montmartre  theatre  and  was  informed 
by  the  management  that  Zara-el-Khala  received  no 
visitors,  professional  or  otherwise.  A  small  but 
expensive  car  awaited  her  at  the  stage  door.  My 


90  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

suspicions  increased.  I  went  away,  but  returned  on 
the  following  night,  otherwise  attired,  and  from  a 
hiding-place  which  I  had  selected  on  the  previous 
evening  I  watched  the  dancer  depart. 

She  came  out  so  enveloped  in  furs  and  veils  as  to 
be  unrecognizable,  and  a  Hindu  wearing  a  chauffeur's 
uniform  opened  the  door  of  the  car  for  her,  and  then, 
having  arranged  the  rugs  to  her  satisfaction, 
mounted  to  the  wheel  and  drove  away. 

I  traced  the  car.  It  had  been  hired  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  Zara  el-Khala  from  her  hotel — a 
small  one  in  an  unfashionable  part  of  Paris — to  the 
theatre  and  home  nightly.  I  sent  a  man  to  call  upon 
her  at  the  hotel — in  order  to  obtain  press  material, 
ostensibly.  She  declined  to  see  him.  I  became  really 
interested.  I  sent  her  a  choice  bouquet,  having  the 
card  of  a  nobleman  attached  to  it,  together  with  a 
message  of  respectful  admiration.  It  was  returned. 
I  prevailed  upon  one  of  the  most  handsome  and 
gallant  cavalry  officers  in  Paris  to  endeavour  to 
make  her  acquaintance.  He  was  rebuffed. 

Eh  bien!  I  knew  then  that  Mile.  Zara  of  the 
Desert  was  unusual. 

You  will  at  once  perceive  that  when  I  heard  from 
the  worthy  Casimir  how  this  unapproachable  lady 
had  actually  written  to  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan  and 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  send  him  her  photograph,  I 
became  excited.  It  appeared  to  me  that  I  found 
myself  upon  the  brink  of  an  important  discovery.  I 
set  six  of  my  first-class  men  at  work:  three  being 


ZARA  EL-KHALA  9* 

detailed  to  watch  the  hotel  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan 
and  three  to  watch  Zara  el-Khala.  Two  more  were 
employed  in  watching  the  Hindu  servant  and  one 
in  watching  my  good  friend  Casimir.  Thus,  nine 
clever  men  and  myself  were  immediately  engaged 
upon  the  case. 

Why  do  I  speak  of  a  "case"  when  thus  far  nothing 
of  apparent  importance  had  occurred?  I  will  ex- 
plain. Although  the  Grand  Duke  travelled  incognito, 
his  Government  knew  of  the  journey  and  wished  to 
learn  with  what  object  it  had  been  undertaken. 

At  the  time  that  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Casimir  the  Grand  Duke  had  been  in  Paris  for  three 
days,  and  he  was — according  to  my  informant — 
"like  a  raging  lion."  The  charming  dancer  had 
vouchsafed  no  reply  to  his  invitation  and  he  had  met 
with  the  same  reception,  on  presenting  himself  in 
person,  which  had  been  accorded  to  myself  and  to 
those  others  who  had  sought  to  obtain  an  interview 
with  Zara  el-Khala ! 

My  state  of  mystification  grew  more  and  more 
profound.  I  studied  the  reports  of  my  nine  as- 
sistants. 

It  appeared  that  the  girl  had  been  in  Paris  for  a 
period  of  two  months.  She  occupied  a  suite  of  rooms 
in  which  all  her  meals  were  served.  Except  the 
Hindu  who  drove  the  hired  car,  she  had  no  servant. 
She  never  appeared  in  the  public  part  of  the  hotel 
unless  veiled,  and  then  merely  in  order  to  pass  out 
to  the  car  or  in  from  it  on  returning.  She  drove  out 


92  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

every  day.  She  had  been  followed,  of  course,  but 
her  proceedings  were  unexceptionable.  Leaving  the 
car  at  a  point  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  she  would 
take  a  short  walk,  if  the  day  was  fine  enough,  never 
proceeding  out  of  sight  of  the  Hindu,  who  followed 
with  the  automobile,  and  would  then  drive  back  to 
her  hotel.  She  never  received  visits  and  never  met 
any  one  during  these  daily  excursions. 

I  turned  to  the  report  dealing  with  the  Hindu. 

He  had  hired  a  room  high  up  under  the  roof  of  an 
apartment  house  where  foreign  waiters  and  others 
had  their  abodes.  He  bought  and  cooked  his  own 
food,  which  apparently  consisted  solely  of  rice,  len- 
tils and  fruit.  He  went  every  morning  to  the  garage 
and  attended  to  the  car,  called  for  his  mistress,  and 
having  returned  remained  until  evening  in  his  own 
apartment.  At  night,  after  returning  from  the 
theatre,  he  sometimes  went  out,  and  my  agent  had 
failed  to  keep  track  of  him  on  every  occasion  that  he 
had  attempted  pursuit.  I  detached  the  man  who 
was  watching  Casimir  and  whose  excellent  reports 
revealed  the  fact  that  Casimir  was  an  honest  fellow 
• — as  valets  go — and  instructed  him  to  assist  in  trac- 
ing the  movements  of  the  Hindu. 

Two  nights  later  they  tracked  him  to  a  riverside 
cafe  kept  by  a  gigantic  quadroon  from  Dominique 
and  patronized  by  that  type  which  forms  a  link  be- 
tween the  lowest  commercial  and  the  criminal 
classes:  itinerant  vendors  of  Eastern  rugs,  street 
performers  and  Turkish  cigarette  makers. 


ZARA  EL-KHALA  93 

At  last  I  began  to  have  hopes.  The  Grand  Duke 
at  this  time  was  speaking  of  leaving  Paris,  but  as  he 
had  found  temporary  consolation  in  the  smiles  of  a 
lady  engaged  at  the  "Folies"  I  did  not  anticipate 
that  he  would  depart  for  several  days  at  any  rate. 
Also  he  was  the  kind  of  man  who  is  stimulated  by 
obstacles. 

The  Hindu  remained  for  an  hour  in  the  cafe, 
smoking  and  drinking  some  kind  of  syrup,  and  one 
of  my  fellows  watched  him.  Presently  the  proprietor 
called  him  into  a  little  room  behind  the  counter  and 
closed  the  door.  The  Hindu  and  the  quadroon  re- 
mained there  for  a  few  minutes,  then  the  Hindu 
came  out  and  left  the  cafe,  returning  to  his  abode. 
There  was  a  telephone  in  this  inner  room,  and  my 
agent  was  of  opinion  that  the  Indian  had  entered 
either  to  make  or  to  receive  a  call.  I  caused  the  line 
to  be  tapped. 

On  the  following  night  the  Hindu  came  back  to 
the  cafe,  followed  by  one  of  my  men.  I  posted  my- 
self at  a  selected  point  and  listened  for  any  message 
that  might  pass  over  the  line  to  or  from  the  cafe. 
At  about  the  same  hour  as  before — according  to  the 
report — someone  called  up  the  establishment,  asking 
for  "Miguel."  This  was  the  quadroon,  and  I  heard 
his  thick  voice  replying.  The  other  voice — which 
had  first  spoken — was  curiously  sibilant  but  very 
distinct.  Yet  it  did  not  sound  like  the  voice  of  a 
Frenchman  or  of  any  European.  This  was  the  con- 
versation : 


94  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Miguel." 

"Miguel  speaks." 

"Scorpion.  A  message  for  Chunda  Lai." 

"Very  good." 

Almost  holding  my  breath,  so  intense  was  my 
excitement,  I  waited  whilst  Miguel  went  to  bring  the 
Hindu.  Suddenly  a  new  voice  spoke — that  of  the 
Hindu. 

"Chunda  Lai  speaks,"  it  said. 

I  clenched  my  teeth ;  I  knew  that  I  must  not  miss 
*  syllable. 

"Scorpion"  replied  ...  in  voluble  Hindustani — 
>  language  of  which  I  know  less  than  a  dozen  words  | 


CHAPTER  II 

CONCERNING  THE  GRAND  DUKE 

ALTHOUGH  I  had  met  with  an  unforeseen 
check,  I  had  nevertheless  learned  three  things. 
I  had  learned  that  Miguel  the  quadroon  was 
possibly  in  league  with  the  Hindu;  that  the  Hindu 
was  called  Chunda  Lai;  and  that  Chunda  Lai  re- 
ceived messages,  probably  instructions,  from  a  third 
party  who  announced  his  presence  by  the  word 
"Scorpion" 

One  of  my  fellows,  of  course,  had  been  in  the 
cafe  all  the  evening,  and  from  him  I  obtained  con- 
firmation of  the  fact  that  it  had  been  the  Hindu  who 
had  been  summoned  to  the  telephone  and  whom  I 
had  heard  speaking.  Instant  upon  the  man  at  the 
cafe  replacing  the  telephone  and  disconnecting,  I 
called  up  the  exchange.  They  had  been  warned  and 
were  in  readiness. 

"From  what  subscriber  did  that  call  come?"  I 
demanded. 

Alas !  another  check  awaited  me.  It  had  originated 
in  a  public  call  office,  and  "Scorpion"  was  untrace- 
able  by  this  means! 

Despair  is  not  permitted  by  the  traditions  of  the 
Service  de  Siirete.  Therefore  I  returned  to  my  flat 
and  recorded  the  facts  of  the  matter  thus  far  estab- 

95 


96  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

lished.  I  perceived  that  I  had  to  deal,  not  with  a 
designing  woman,  but  with  some  shadowy  being  of 
whom  she  was  an  instrument.  The  anomaly  of  her 
life  was  in  a  measure  explained.  She  sojourned  in 
Paris  for  a  purpose — a  mysterious  purpose  which 
was  concerned  (I  could  not  doubt  it)  with  the  Grand 
Duke  Ivan.  This  was  not  an  amorous  but  a  political 
intrigue. 

I  communicated,  at  a  late  hour,  with  the  senior  of 
the  three  men  watching  the  Grand  Duke.  The  Grand 
Duke  that  evening  had  sent  a  handsome  piece  of 
jewellery  purchased  in  Rue  de  la  Paix  to  the  dancer. 
It  had  been  returned. 

In  the  morning  I  met  with  the  good  Casimir  at  his 
favorite  cafe.  He  had  just  discovered  that  Zara 
el-Khala  drove  daily  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  alone, 
and  that  afternoon  the  Grand  Duke  had  determined 
to  accost  her  during  her  solitary  walk.  I  prepared 
myself  for  this  event.  Arrayed  in  a  workman's 
blouse  and  having  a  modest  luncheon  and  a  small 
bottle  of  wine  in  a  basket,  I  concealed  myself  in  that 
part  of  the  Bois  which  was  the  favourite  recreation 
ground  of  the  dancer,  and  awaited  her  appearance. 

The  Grand  Duke  appeared  first  upon  the  scene, 
accompanied  by  Casimir.  The  latter  pointed  out 
to  him  a  path  through  the  trees  along  which  Zara 
el-Khala  habitually  strolled  and  showed  him  the 
point  at  which  she  usually  rejoined  the  Hindu  who 
followed  along  the  road  with  the  car.  They  retired. 
I  seated  myself  beneath  a  tree  from  whence  I  could 


CONCERNING  THE  GRAND  DUKE     97 

watch  the  path  and  the  road  and  began  to  partake 
of  the  repast  which  I  had  brought  with  me. 

At  about  three  o'clock  the  dancer's  car  appeared, 
and  the  girl,  veiled  as  usual,  stepped  out,  and  having 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  Indian,  began  to 
walk  slowly  towards  me,  sometimes  pausing  to  watch 
a  bird  in  the  boughs  above  her  and  sometimes  to 
examine  some  wild  plant  growing  beside  the  way. 
I  ate  cheese  from  the  point  of  a  clasp-knife  and 
drank  wine  out  of  the  bottle. 

Suddenly  she  saw  me. 

She  had  cast  her  veil  aside  in  order  to  enjoy  the 
cool  and  fragrant  air,  and  as  she  stopped  and  re- 
garded me  doubtfully  where  I  sat,  I  saw  her  beauti- 
ful face,  undefiled,  now,  by  make-up  and  unspoiled 
by  the  presence  of  garish  Eastern  ornaments.  Nom 
d'un  nom!  but  she  was  truly  a  lovely  woman!  My 
heart  went  out  in  sympathy  to  the  poor  Grand  Duke. 
Had  I  received  such  a  mark  of  favour  from  her  as 
he  had  received,  and  had  I  then  been  scorned  as  now 
she  scorned  him,  I  should  have  been  desperate  in- 
deed. 

Coming  around  a  bend  in  the  path,  then,  she  stood 
only  a  few  paces  away,  looking  at  me.  I  touched 
the  peak  of  my  cap. 

"Good-day,  mademoiselle,"  I  said.  "The  weather 
is  very  beautiful." 

"Good-day,"  she  replied. 

I  continued  to  eat  cheese,  and  reassured  she 
walked  on  past  me.  Twenty  yards  beyond,  the 


98  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Grand  Duke  was  waiting.  As  I  laid  down  my 
upon  the  paper  which  had  been  wrapped  around  th* 
bread  and  cheese,  and  raised  the  bottle  to  my  lips, 
the  enamoured  nobleman  stepped  out  from  the  trees 
and  bowed  low  before  Zara  el-Khala. 

She  started  back  from  him — a  movement  of  in- 
imitable grace,  like  that  of  a  startled  gazelle.  And 
even  before  I  had  time  to  get  upon  my  feet  she  had 
raised  a  little  silver  whistle  to  her  lips  and  blown  a 
short  shrill  note. 

The  Grand  Duke,  endeavouring  to  seize  her  handi 
was  pouring  out  voluble  expressions  of  adoration  in 
execrable  French,  and  Zara  el-Khala  was  retreating 
step  by  step.  She  had  quickly  thrown  the  veil  about 
her  again.  I  heard  the  pad  of  swiftly  running  feet. 
If  I  was  to  intervene  before  the  arrival  of  the 
Hindu,  I  must  act  rapidly.  I  raced  along  the  path 
and  thrust  myself  between  the  Grand  Duke  and  the 
girl. 

"Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "is  this  gentleman  annoy- 
ing you? 

"How  dare  you,  low  pig !"  cried  the  Grand  Duke, 
and  with  a  sweep  of  his  powerful  arm  he  hurled  me 
aside. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Zara  el-Khala  with  great 
composure.  "But  my  servant  is  here." 

As  I  turned,  Chunda  Lai  hurled  himself  upon  the 
Grand  Duke  from  behind.  I  had  never  seen  an 
expression  in  a  man's  eyes  like  that  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Hindu  at  this  moment.  They  blazed  like  the  eyes 


CONCERNING  THE  GRAND  DUKE  99 

of  a  tiger,  and  his  teeth  were  bared  in  a  savage  grin 
which  I  cannot  hope  to  describe.  His  lean  body 
seemed  to  shoot  through  the  air,  and  he  descended 
upon  his  burly  adversary  as  a  jungle  beast  falls  upon 
its  prey.  Those  long  brown  fingers  clasping  hi3 
neck,  the  Grand  Duke  fell  forward  upon  his  face. 

"Chunda  Lai !"  said  the  dancer. 

Kneeling,  his  right  knee  thrust  between  the  shoul- 
der blades  of  the  prostrate  man,  the  Hindu  looked 
up— and  I  read  murder  in  those  glaring  eyes.  That 
he  was  an  accomplished  wrestler — or  perhaps  a 
strangler — I  divined  from  the  helplessness  of  the 
Grand  Duke,  who  lay  inert,  robbed  of  every  power 
except  that  of  his  tongue.  He  was  swearing  sav- 
agely. 

"Chunda  Lai!"  said  Zara  el-Khala  again. 

The  Hindu  shifted  his  grip  from  the  neck  to  the 
arms  of  the  Grand  Duke.  He  pinioned  him  as  is 
done  in  jiu-jitsu  and  forced  him  to  stand  upright. 
It  was  a  curious  spectacle — the  impotency  of  this 
burly  nobleman  in  the  hands  of  his  slight  adversary. 
As  they  swayed  to  their  feet,  I  thought  I  saw  the 
glint  of  metal  in  the  right  hand  of  the  Indian,  but  I 
could  not  be  sure,  for  my  attention  was  diverted.  At 
this  moment  Casimir  appeared  upon  the  scene,  look- 
ing very  frightened. 

Suddenly  releasing  his  hold  altogether,  the  Hindu 
glaring  into  the  empurpled  face  of  the  Grand  Duke, 
shot  out  one  arm  and  pointed  with  a  quivering 
finger  along  the  path. 


joo  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Go!"  he  said. 

The  Grand  Duke  clenched  his  fists,  looked  from 
face  to  face  as  if  calculating  his  chances,  then 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  very  deliberately  wiped  his 
neck  and  wrists,  where  the  Indian  had  held  him, 
with  a  large  silk  hankerchief  and  threw  the  hand- 
kerchief on  the  ground.  I  saw  a  speck  of  blood  upon 
the  silk.  Without  another  glance  he  walked  away, 
Casimir  following  sheepishly.  It  is  needless,  per- 
haps, to  add  that  Casimir  had  not  recognized  me. 

I  turned  to  the  dancer,  touching  the  peak  of  my 
cap. 

"Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  mademoiselle?" 
I  asked. 

"Thank  you — no,"  she  replied. 

She  placed  five  francs  in  my  hand  and  set  off 
rapidly  through  the  trees  in  the  direction  of  the  road, 
her  bloodthirsty  but  faithful  attendant  at  her  heels ! 

I  stood  scratching  my  head  and  looking  after  her. 

That  afternoon  I  posted  a  man  acquainted  with 
Hindustani  to  tap  any  message  which  might  be  sent 
to  or  from  the  cafe  used  by  Chunda  Lai.  I  learned 
that  the  Grand  Duke  had  taken  a  stage  box  at  the 
Montmartre  theatre  at  which  the  dancer  was  appear- 
ing, and  I  decided  that  I  would  be  present  also. 

A  great  surprise  was  in  store  for  me. 

Zara  el-Khala  had  at  this  time  established  a  repu- 
tation which  extended  beyond  those  circles  from 
which  the  regular  patrons  of  this  establishment  were 
exclusively  drawn  and  which  had  begun  to  penetrate 


CONCERNING  THE  GRAND  DUKE    101 

to  all  parts  of  Paris.  You  will  remember  that  it  was 
the  extraordinary  circumstance  of  her  remaining 
at  this  obscure  place  of  entertainment  so  long  which 
had  first  interested  me  in  the  lady.  I  had  learned 
that  she  had  rejected  a  number  of  professional  of- 
fers, and,  as  I  have  already  stated,  I  had  assured 
myself  of  this  unusual  attitude  by  presenting  the 
card  of  a  well-known  Paris  agency — and  being  re- 
fused admittance. 

Now,  as  I  leaned  upon  the  rail  at  the  back  of  the 
auditorium  and  the  time  for  the  dancer's  appearance 
grew  near,  I  could  not  fail  to  observe  that  there  was 
a  sprinkling  of  evening-dress  in  the  stalls  and  that 
the  two  boxes  already  occupied  boasted  the  presence 
of  parties  of  well-known  men  of  fashion.  Then  the 
Grand  Duke  entered  as  a  troupe  of  acrobats  finished 
their  performance.  Zara  el-Khala  was  next  upon 
the  programme.  I  glanced  at  the  Grand  Duke  and 
thought  that  he  looked  pale  and  unwell. 

The  tableau  curtain  fell  and  the  manager  appeared 
behind  the  footlights.  He,  also,  seemed  to  be 
much  perturbed. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  greatly  regret 
to  announce  that  Mile.  Zara  el-Khala  is  indisposed 
and  unable  to  appear.  We  have  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing the  services " 

Of  whom  he  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  serv- 
ices I  never  heard,  for  the  rougher  section  of  the 
audience  rose  at  him  like  a  menacing  wave !  They 
had  come  to  see  the  Egyptian  dancer  and  they  would 


102  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

have  their  money  back!  It  was  a  swindle;  they 
would  smash  the  theatre ! 

If  one  had  doubted  the  great  and  growing  popu- 
larity of  Zara  el-Khala,  this  demonstration  must 
have  proved  convincing.  Over  the  heads  of  the 
excited  audience,  I  saw  the  Grand  Duke  rise  as  if  to 
retire.  The  other  box  parties  were  also  standing  up 
and  talking  angrily. 

"Why  was  it  not  announced  outside  the  theatre  ?'* 
someone  shouted. 

"We  did  not  know  until  twenty  minutes  ago!" 
cried  the  manager  in  accents  of  despair. 

I  hurried  from  the  theatre  and  took  a  taxicab  to 
the  hotel  of  the  dancer.  Running  into  the  hall,  I 
thrust  a  card  in  the  hand  of  a  concierge  who  stood 
there. 

"Announce  to  Mile.  Zara  el-Khala  that  I  must 
see  her  at  once,"  I  said. 

The  man  smiled  and  returned  the  card  to  me. 

"Mile.  Zara  el-Khala  left  Paris  at  seven  o'clock, 
monsieur !" 

"What!"  I  cried— "left  Paris!" 

"But  certainly.  Her  baskets  were  taken  to  the 
Gare  du  Nord  an  hour  earlier  by  her  servant  and 
she  went  off  by  the  seven-fifty  rapid  for  Calais. 
The  theatre  people  were  here  asking  for  her  an  hour 
ago." 

I  hurried  to  my  office  to  obtain  the  latest  reports 
of  my  men.  I  had  lost  touch  with  them,  you  under- 
stand, during  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  and 


•CONCERNING  THE  GRAND  DUKE    103 

evening.  I  found  there  the  utmost  confusion.  They 
had  been  seeking  me  all  over  Paris  to  inform  me  that 
Zara  el-Khala.  had  left.  Two  men  had  followed 
her  and  had  telephoned  from  Calais  for  instructions. 
She  had  crossed  by  the  night  mail  for  Dover.  It 
was  already  too  late  to  instruct  the  English  police. 

For  a  few  hours  I  had  relaxed  my  usual  vigilance 
— and  this  was  the  result.  What  could  I  do  ?  Zara 
el-Khala  had  committed  no  crime,  but  her  sudden 
flight — for  it  looked  like  flight  you  will  agree — was 
highly  suspicious.  And  as  I  sat  there  in  my  office 
filled  with  all  sorts  of  misgivings,  in  ran  one  of  the 
men  engaged  in  watching  the  Grand  Duke. 

The  Grand  Duke  had  been  seized  with  illness  as 
he  left  his  box  in  the  Montmartre  theatre  and  had 
died  before  his  car  could  reach  the  hotel ! 


CHAPTER  III 

A  STRANGE  QUESTION 

A  CONVICTION  burst  upon  my  mind  that  a 
frightful  crime  had  been  committed.  By 
whom  and  for  what  purpose  I  knew  not.  I 
hastened  to  the  hotel  of  the  Grand  Duke.  Tremendous 
excitement  prevailed  there,  of  course.  There  is  no 
more  certain  way  for  a  great  personage  to  court 
publicity  than  to  travel  incognito.  Everywhere  that 
"M.  de  Stahler"  had  appeared  all  Paris  had  cried, 
"There  goes  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan  !'*  And  now  as 
I  entered  the  hotel,  press,  police  and  public  were 
demanding:  "Is  it  true  that  the  Grand  Duke  is 
dead?"  Just  emerging  from  the  life  I  saw  Casimir. 
In  propria  persona — as  M.  Max — he  failed  to  recog- 
nize me. 

"My  good  man,"  I  said — "are  you  a  member  of 
the  suite  of  the  late  Grand  Duke?" 

"I  am,  or  was,  the  valet  of  M.  de  Stahler,  mon- 
sieur," he  replied. 

I  showed  him  my  card. 

"To  nie  'M.  de  Stahler'  is  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan. 
What  other  servants  had  he  with  him?"  I  asked, 
athough  I  knew  very  well. 

"None,  monsieur." 

"Where  and  when  was  he  taken  ill?" 

104 


A  STRANGE  QUESTION  105 

"At  the  Theatre  Coquerico,  Montmartre,  at  about 
a  quarter  past  ten  o'clock  to-night." 

"Who  was  with  him?" 

"No  one,  monsieur.  His  Highness  was  alone  in  a 
box.  I  had  instructions  to  call  with  the  car  at  eleven 
o'clock." 

"Well?" 

"The  theatre  management  telephoned  at  a  quarter 
past  ten  to  say  that  His  Highness  had  been  taken  ill 
and  that  a  physician  had  been  sent  for.  I  went  in 
the  car  at  once  and  found  him  lying  in  one  of  the 
dressing-rooms  to  which  he  had  been  carried.  A 
medical  man  was  in  attendance.  The  Grand  Duke 
was  unconscious.  We  moved  him  to  the  car " 

"We?" 

"The  doctor,  the  theatre  manager,  and  myself. 
The  Grand  Duke  was  then  alive,  the  physician  de- 
clared, although  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  already  dead. 
But  just  before  we  reached  the  hotel,  the  physician, 
who  was  watching  His  Highness  anxiously,  cried, 
'Ah,  mon  Dieu!  It  is  finished.  What  a  catas- 
trophe!'" 

"He  was  dead?" 

"He  was  dead,  monsieur." 

"Who  has  seen  him?" 

"They  have  telephoned  for  half  the  doctors  in 
Paris,  monsieur,  but  it  is  too  late." 

He  was  affected,  the  good  Casimir.  Tears  welled 
up  in  his  eyes.  I  mounted  in  the  lift  to  the  apart- 
ment in  which  the  Grand  Duke  lay.  Three  doctors 


106  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

were  there,  one  of  them  being  he  of  whom  Casimir 
had  spoken.  Consternation  was  written  on  every 
face. 

"It  was  his  heart,"  I  was  assured  by  the  doctor 
who  had  been  summoned  to  the  theatre.  "We  shall 
find  that  he  suffered  from  heart  trouble." 

They  were  all  agreed  upon  the  point. 

"He  must  have  sustained  a  great  emotional 
shock,"  said  another. 

"You  are  convinced  that  there  was  no  foul  play, 
gentlemen?"  I  asked. 

They  were  quite  unanimous  on  the  point. 

"Did  the  Grand  Duke  make  any  statement  at  the 
time  of  the  seizure  which  would  confirm  the  theory 
of  a  heart  attack  ?" 

No.  He  had  fallen  down  unconscious  outside  the 
door  of  his  box,  and  from  this  unconsciousness  he 
had  never  recovered.  (Depositions  of  witnesses, 
medical  evidence  and  other  documents  are  available 
for  the  guidance  of  whoever  may  care  to  see  them, 
but,  as  is  well  known,  the  death  of  the  Grand  Duke 
was  ascribed  to  natural  causes  and  it  seemed  as 
though  my  trouble  would  after  all  prove  to  be  in 
vain. )  Let  us  see  what  happened. 

Leaving  the  hotel,  on  the  night  of  the  Grand 
Duke's  death,  I  joined  the  man  who  was  watching 
the  cafe  telephone. 

There  had  been  a  message  during  the  course  of 
the  evening,  but  it  had  been  for  a  Greek  cigarette- 
maker  and  it  referred  to  the  theft  of  several  bales 


A  STRANGE  QUESTION  107 

of  Turkish  tobacco — useful  information,  of  minor 
kind,  but  of  little  interest  to  me.  I  knew  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  question  the  man  Miguel,  al- 
though I  strongly  suspected  him  of  being  a  member 
of  "The  Scorpion's"  organization.  Any  patron  of 
the  establishment  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  receiving 
private  telephone  calls  at  the  cafe  on  payment  of  a 
small  fee. 

A  man  of  less  experience  in  obscure  criminology 
might  now  have  assumed  that  he  had  been  misled 
by  a  series  of  striking  coincidences.  Remember, 
there  was  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  the  minds  of  the 
medical  experts  that  the  Grand  Duke  had  died  from 
syncope.  His  own  professional  adviser  had  sent 
written  testimony  to  show  that  there  was  hereditary 
heart  trouble,  although  not  of  a  character  calculated 
to  lead  to  a  fatal  termination  except  under  extraor- 
dinary circumstances.  His  own  Government,  which 
had  every  reason  to  suspect  that  the  Grand  Duke's 
assassination  might  be  attempted,  was  satisfied.  Eh 
bien!  I  was  not. 

I  cross-examined  the  manager  of  the  Theatre 
Coquerico.  He  admitted  that  Mile.  Zara  el-Khali 
had  been  a  mystery  throughout  her  engagement. 
Neither  he  nor  anyone  else  connected  with  the 
house  had  ever  entered  her  dressing-room  or  held 
any  conversation  with  her,  whatever,  except  the 
stage-manager  and  the  musical  director.  These  had 
spoken  to  her  about  her  music  and  about  lighting 
and  other  stage  effects.  She  spoke  perfect  French. 


log  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Such  a  state  of  affairs  was  almost  incredible,  but 
was  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  dancer,  at  a  most 
modest  salary,  had  doubled  the  takings  of  the  theatre 
in  a  few  days  and  had  attracted  capacity  business 
throughout  the  remainder  of  her  engagement.  She 
had  written  from  Marseilles,  enclosing  press  notices 
and  other  usual  matter  and  had  been  booked  direct 
for  one  week.  She  had  remained  for  two  months, 
and  might  have  remained  for  ever,  the  poor  man- 
ager assured  me,  at  five  times  the  salary ! 

A  curious  fact  now  came  to  light.  In  all  her 
photographs  Zara  el  Khala  appeared  veiled,  in  the 
Eastern  manner;  that  is  to  say,  she  wore  a  white 
silk  yashmak  which  concealed  all  her  face  except  her 
magnificent  eyes !  On  the  stage  the  veil  was  dis- 
carded; in  the  photographs  it  was  always  present. 

And  the  famous  picture  which  she  had  sent  to  the 
Grand  Duke?  He  had  destroyed  it,  in  a  fit  of  pas- 
sion, on  returning  from  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  after 
his  encounter  with  Chunda  Lai ! 

It  is  Fate  after  all — Kismet — and  not  the  wit  of 
man  which  leads  to  the  apprehension  of  really  great 
criminals — a  tireless  Fate  which  dogs  their  footsteps, 
a  remorseless  Fate  from  which  they  fly  in  vain. 
Long  after  the  funeral  of  the  Grand  Duke,  and  at 
a  time  when  I  had  almost  forgotten  Zara  el-Khala,  I 
found  myself  one  evening  at  the  opera  with  a  dis- 
tinguished French  scientist  and  he  chanced  to  refer 
to  the  premature  death  (which  had  occurred  a  few 
months  earlier)  of  Henrik  Ericksen,  the  Norwegian, 


A  STRANGE  QUESTION  109 

"A  very  great  loss  to  the  century,  M.  Max,"  he 
said.  "Ericksen  was  as  eminent  in  electrical  science 
as  the  Grand  Duke  Ivan  was  eminent  in  the  science 
of  war.  Both  were  stricken  down  in  the  prime  of 
life — and  under  almost  identical  circumstances." 

"That  is  true,"  I  said  thoughtfully. 

"It  would  almost  seem,"  he  continued,  "as  if 
Nature  had  determined  to  foil  any  further  attempts 
to  rifle  her  secrets  and  Heaven  to  check  mankind  in 
the  making  of  future  wars.  Only  three  months  after 
the  Grand  Duke's  death,  the  American  admiral, 
Mackney,  died  at  sea — you  will  remember?  Now, 
following  Ericksen,  Van  Rembold,  undoubtedly  the 
greatest  mining  engineer  of  the  century  and  the  only 
man  who  has  ever  produced  radium  in  workable 
quantities,  is  seized  with  illness  at  a  friend's  house 
and  expires  even  before  medical  aid  can  be  sum- 
moned." 

"It  is  very  strange." 

"It  is  uncanny." 

"Were  you  personally  acquainted  with  the  late 
Van  Rembold?"  I  asked. 

"I  knew  him  intimately — a  man  of  unusual  charm, 
M.  Max;  and  I  have  particular  reason  to  remember 
his  death,  for  I  actually  met  him  and  spoke  to  him 
less  than  an  hour  before  he  died.  We  only  ex- 
changed a  few  words — we  met  on  the  street ;  but  I 
shall  never  forget  the  subject  of  our  chat." 

"How  is  that?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  I  presume  Van  Rembold's  question  wa» 


i  io  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

prompted  by  his  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  I  had 
studied  such  subjects  at  one  time ;  but  he  asked  me 
if  I  knew  of  any  race  or  sect  in  Africa  or  Asia  who 
worshipped  scorpions." 

"Scorpions!"  I  cried.  "Ah,  mon  Dieu!  monsieur 
say  it  again — scorpions?" 

"But  yes,  certainly.    Does  it  surprise  you  ?" 

"Did  it  not  surprise  you?" 

"Undoubtedly.  I  could  not  imagine  what  had 
occurred  to  account  for  his  asking  so  strange  a  ques- 
tion. I  replied  that  I  knew  of  no  such  sect,  and 
Van  Rembold  immediatey  changed  the  subject,  nor 
did  he  revert  to  it.  So  that  I  never  learned  why  he 
had  made  that  singular  inquiry." 

You  can  imagine  that  this  conversation  afforded 
me  much  food  for  reflection.  Whilst  I  could  think 
of  no  reason  why  anyone  should  plot  to  assassinate 
Grand  Dukes,  admirals  and  mining  engineers,  the 
circumstances  of  the  several  cases  were  undoubtedly 
similar  in  a  number  of  respects.  But  it  was  the  re- 
markable question  asked  by  Van  Rembold  which 
particularly  aroused  my  interest. 

Of  course  it  might  prove  to  be  nothing  more  than 
a  coincidence,  but  when  one  comes  to  consider  how 
rarely  the  word  "scorpion"  is  used,  outside  those 
countries  in  which  these  insects  abound,  it  appears 
to  be  something  more.  Van  Rembold,  then,  had 
had  some  occasion  to  feel  curious  about  the  scor- 
pions ;  the  name  "Scorpion"  was  associated  with  the 
Hindu  follower  of  Zara  el-Khala;  and  she  it  was 


A  STRANGE  QUESTION  in 

who  had  brought  the  Grand  Duke  to  Paris,  where 
he  had  died. 

Oh !  it  was  a  very  fragile  thread,  but  by  following 
such  a  thread  as  this  we  are  sometimes  led  to  the 
heart  of  a  labyrinth. 

Beyond  wondering  if  some  sinister  chain  bound 
together  this  series  of  apparently  natural  deaths  I 
might  have  made  no  move  in  the  matter,  but  some- 
thing occurred  which  spurred  me  to  action.  Sir 
Frank  Narcombe,  the  great  English  surgeon,  col- 
lapsed in  the  foyer  of  a  London  theatre  and  died 
shortly  afterwards.  Here  again  I  perceived  a  case 
of  a  notable  man  succumbing  unexpectedly  in  a 
public  place — a  case  parallel  to  that  of  the  Grand 
Duke,  of  Ericksen,  of  Van  Rembold!  It  seemed 
as  though  some  strange  epidemic  had  attacked  men 
of  science — yes !  they  were  all  men  of  science,  even 
including  the  Grand  Duke,  who  was  said  to  be  the 
most  scientific  soldier  in  Europe,  and  the  admiral, 
who  had  perfected  the  science  of  submarine  war- 
fare. 

"The  Scorpion!"  .  .  .  that  name  haunted  me 
persistently.  So  much  so  that  at  last  I  determined 
to  find  out  for  myself  if  Sir  Frank  Narcombe  had 
ever  spoken  about  a  scorpion  or  if  there  was  any 
evidence  to  show  that  he  had  been  interested  in 
the  subject. 

I  could  not  fail  to  remember,  too,  that  Zara 
el-Khala  had  last  been  reported  as  crossing  to 
England. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAFE 

NEW  SCOTLAND  YARD  had  been  advised 
that  any  reference  to  a  scorpion,  in  whatever 
form  it  occurred,  should  be  noted  and  fol- 
lowed up,  but  nothing  had  resulted  and  as  a  matter 
of  fact  I  was  not  surprised  in  the  least.  All  that  I 
had  learned — and  this  was  little  enough — I  had 
learned  more  or  less  by  accident.  But  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  a  visit  to  London  might  be  advisable. 

I  had  caused  a  watch  to  be  kept  upon  the  man 
Miguel,  whose  establishment  seemed  to  be  a  recog- 
nized resort  of  shady  characters.  I  had  no  absolute 
proof,  remember,  that  he  knew  anything  of  the 
private  affairs  of  the  Hindu,  and  no  further  refer- 
ence to  a  scorpion  had  been  made  by  anyone  using 
the  cafe  telephone.  Nevertheless  I  determined  to 
give  him  a  courtesy  call  before  leaving  for  London 
.  .  .  and  to  this  determination  I  cannot  doubt  that 
once  again  I  was  led  by  providence. 

Attired  in  a  manner  calculated  to  enable  me  to 
pass  unnoticed  among  the  patrons  of  the  establish- 
ment ,  I  entered  the  place  and  ordered  cognac. 
Miguel  having  placed  it  before  me,  I  lighted  a 
cigarette  and  surveyed  my  surroundings. 

Eight  or  nine  men  were  in  the  cafe,  and  two 

112 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAFE  113 

women.  Four  of  the  men  were  playing  cards  at  a 
corner  table,  and  the  others  were  distributed  about 
the  place,  drinking  and  smoking.  The  women,  who 
were  flashily  dressed  but  who  belonged  to  that  order 
of  society  which  breeds  the  Apache,  were  deep  in 
conversation  with  a  handsome  Algerian.  I  recog- 
nized only  one  face  in  the  cafe — that  of  a  dangerous 
character,  Jean  Sach,  who  had  narrowly  escaped 
the  electric  chair  in  the  United  States  and  who  was 
well  known  to  the  Bureau.  He  was  smiling  at  one 
of  the  two  women — the  woman  to  whom  the  Al- 
gerian seemed  to  be  more  particularly  addressing 
himself. 

Another  there  was  in  the  cafe  who  interested  me 
as  a  student  of  physiognomy — a  dark,  bearded  man, 
one  of  the  card-players.  His  face  was  disfigured 
by  a  purple  scar  extending  from  his  brow  to  the  left 
corner  of  his  mouth,  which  it  had  drawn  up  into  a 
permanent  snarl,  so  that  he  resembled  an  enraged 
and  dangerous  wild  animal.  Mentally  I  classified 
this  person  as  "Le  Balafre." 

I  had  just  made  up  my  mind  to  depart  when  the 
man  Sach  arose,  crossed  the  cafe  and  seated  himself 
insolently  between  the  Algerian  and  the  woman  to 
whom  the  latter  was  talking.  Turning  his  back  upon 
the  brown  man,  he  addressed  some  remark  to  the 
woman,  at  the  same  time  leering  in  her  face. 

Women  of  this  class  are  difficult,  you  understand? 
Sach  received  from  the  lady  a  violent  blow  upon 
the  face  which  rolled  him  on  the  floor !  As  he  fell, 


1 14  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

the  Algerian  sprang  up  and  drew  a  knife.  Sach 
rolled  away  from  him  and  also  reached  for  the  knife 
which  he  carried  in  a  hip-pocket. 

Before  he  could  draw  it,  Miguel,  the  quadroon 
proprietor,  threw  himself  upon  him  and  tried  to 
pitch  him  into  the  street.  But  Sach,  although  a 
small  man,  was  both  agile  and  ferocious.  He  twisted 
out  of  the  grasp  of  the  huge  quadroon  and  turned, 
raising  the  knife.  As  he  did  so,  the  Algerian  deftly 
kicked  it  from  his  grasp  and  left  Sach  to  face 
Miguel  unarmed.  Screaming  with  rage,  he  sprang 
at  Miguel's  throat,  and  the  two  fell  writhing  upon 
the  floor. 

There  could  only  be  one  end  to  such  a  struggle,  of 
course,  as  the  Algerian  recognized  by  replacing  his 
knife  in  his  pocket  and  resuming  his  seat.  Miguel 
obtained  a  firm  hold  upon  Sach  and  raised  him 
bodily  above  his  head,  as  one  has  seen  a  professional 
weight-lifter  raise  a  heavy  dumb-bell.  Thus  he 
carried  him,  kicking  and  foaming  at  the  mouth  with 
passion,  to  the  open  door.  From  the  step  he  threw 
him  into  the  middle  of  the  street. 

At  this  moment  I  observed  something  glittering 
upon  the  floor  close  to  the  chair  occupied  by  the 
Algerian.  Standing  up — for  I  had  determined  to 
depart — I  crossed  in  that  direction,  stooped  and 
picked  up  this  object  which  glittered.  As  my  fingers 
touched  it,  so  did  my  heart  give  a  great  leap. 

The  object  was  a  golden  scorpion! 

Forgetful  of  my  dangerous  surroundings  I  stood 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAFE  115 

looking  at  the  golden  ornament  in  my  hand  .  .  . 
when  suddenly  and  violently  it  was  snatched  from 
me!  The  Algerian,  his  brown  face  convulsed  with 
rage,  confronted  me. 

"Where  did  you  find  that  charm?"  he  cried.  "It 
belongs  to  me." 

"Very  well,"  I  replied — "you  have  it." 

He  glared  at  me  with  a  ferocity  which  the  incident 
scarcely  seemed  to  merit  and  exchanged  a  significant 
glance  with  someone  who  had  approached  and  who 
now  stood  behind  me.  Turning,  I  met  a  second 
black  gaze — that  of  the  quadroon  who  having  re- 
stored order  had  returned  from  the  cafe  door  and 
now  stood  regarding  me. 

"Did  you  find  it  on  the  floor?"  asked  Miguel 
suspiciously. 

"I  did." 

He  turned  to  the  Algerian. 

"It  fell  when  you  kicked  the  knife  from  the  hand 
of  that  pig,"  he  said.  "You  should  be  more  careful." 

Again  they  exchanged  significant  glances,  but  the 
Algerian  resumed  his  seat  and  Miguel  went  behind 
the  counter.  I  left  the  cafe  conscious  of  the  fact 
that  black  looks  pursued  me. 

The  night  was  very  dark,  and  as  I  came  out  on 
to  the  pavement  someone  touched  me  on  the  arm. 
I  turned  in  a  flash. 

"Walk  on,  friend,"  said  the  voice  of  Jean  Sach. 
"What  was  it  that  you  picked  up  from  the  floor?" 

"A  golden  scorpion,"  I  answered  quickly. 


n6  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Ah !"  he  whispered — "I  thought  so !  It  is  enough. 
They  shall  pay  for  what  they  have  done  to  me — 
those  two.  Hurry,  friend,  as  I  do." 

Before  I  could  say  another  word  or  strive  to 
detain  him,  he  turned  and  ran  off  along  a  narrow 
courtway  which  at  this  point  branched  from  the 
street. 

I  stood  for  a  moment,  nonplussed,  staring  after 
him.  By  good  fortune  I  had  learned  more  in  ten 
minutes  than  by  the  exercise  of  all  my  ingenuity  and 
the  resources  of  the  Service  I  could  have  learned  in 
ten  months !  Par  la  barbe  du  prophete !  the  Kismet 
which  dogs  the  footsteps  of  malefactors  assisted  me  1 

Recollecting  the  advice  of  Jean  Sach,  I  set  off  at 
a  brisk  pace  along  the  street,  which  was  dark  and 
deserted  and  which  passed  through  a  district  marked 
red  on  the  Paris  crimes-map.  Arriving  at  the  corner, 
above  which  projected  a  lamp,  I  paused  and  glanced 
back  into  the  darkness.  I  could  see  no  one,  but  I 
thought  I  could  detect  the  sound  of  stealthy  foot- 
steps following  me. 

The  suspicion  was  enough.  I  quickened  my 
pace,  anxious  to  reach  the  crowded  boulevard  upon 
which  this  second  street  opened.  I  reached  it  un- 
molested, but  intending  to  throw  any  pursuer  off 
the  track,  I  dodged  and  doubled  repeatedly  on  the 
way  to  my  flat  and  arrived  there  about  midnight, 
convinced  that  I  had  eluded  pursuit — if  indeed  I 
had  been  pursued. 

All  my  arrangements  were  made  for  leaving  Paris, 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAFE  117 

and  now  I  telephoned  to  the  assistant  on  duty  in 
my  office,  instructing  him  to  take  certain  steps  in 
regard  to  the  proprietor  of  the  cafe  and  the  Algerian 
and  to  find  the  hiding-place  of  the  man  Jean  Sach. 
I  counted  it  more  than  ever  important  that  I  should 
go  to  London  at  once. 

In  this  belief  I  was  confirmed  at  the  very  moment 
that  I  boarded  the  Channel  steamer  at  Boulogne; 
for  as  I  stepped  upon  the  deck  I  found  myself  face 
to  face  with  a  man  who  was  leaning  upon  the  rail 
and  apparently  watching  the  passengers  coming  on 
board.  He  was  a  man  of  heavy  build,  dark  and 
bearded,  and  his  face  was  strangely  familiar. 

Turning,  as  I  lighted  a  cigarette,  I  glanced  back 
at  him  in  order  to  obtain  a  view  of  his  profile.  I 
knew  him  instantly — for  now  the  scar  was  visible. 
It  was  "Le  Balafre"  who  had  been  playing  cards 
in  Miguel's  cafe  on  the  previous  night! 

I  have  sometimes  been  criticised,  especially  by  my 
English  confreres,  for  my  faith  in  disguise.  I 
have  been  told  that  no  disguise  is  impenetrable  to 
the  trained  eye.  I  reply  that  there  are  many  dis- 
guises but  few  trained  eyes!  To  my  faith  in  dis- 
guise I  owed  the  knowledge  that  a  golden  scorpion 
was  the  token  of  some  sort  of  gang,  society,  or 
criminal  group,  and  to  this  same  faith  which  an 
English  inspector  of  police  once  assured  me  to  be  a 
misplaced  one  I  owed,  on  boarding  the  steamer,  my 
escape  from  detection  by  this  big  bearded  fellow 
who  was  possibly  looking  out  for  me ! 


ii8  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Yet,  I  began  to  wonder  if  after  all  I  had  escaped 
the  shadowy  pursuer  whose  presence  I  had  sus- 
pected in  the  dark  street  outside  the  cafe  or  if  he 
had  tracked  me  and  learned  my  real  identity.  In 
any  event,  the  roles  were  about  to  be  reversed !  "Le 
Balafre"  at  Folkestone  took  a  seat  in  a  third-class 
carriage  of  the  London  train.  I  took  one  in  the 
next  compartment. 

Arrived  at  Charing  Cross,  he  stood  for  a  time  in 
the  booking-hall,  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  then  took 
up  the  handbag  which  he  carried  and  walked  out 
into  the  station  yard.  I  walked  out  also. 

"Le  Balafre"  accosted  a  cabman;  and  as  he  did 
so  I  passed  close  behind  him  and  overheard  a  part 
of  the  conversation. 

".  .  .  Bow  Road  Station  Eastl     It's  too  far. 
What?" 

I  glanced  back.  The  bearded  man  was  holding 
up  a  note — a  pound  note  apparently.  I  saw  the 
cabman  nod.  Without  an  instant's  delay  I  rushed 
up  to  another  cabman  who  had  just  discharged  a 
passenger. 

"To  Bow  Road  Station  East !"  I  said  to  the  man, 
"Double  fare  if  you  are  quick !" 

It  would  be  a  close  race.  But  I  counted  on  the 
aid  of  that  Fate  which  dogs  the  steps  of  wrong- 
doers !  My  cab  was  off  first  and  the  driver  had  every 
reason  for  hurrying.  From  the  moment  that  we 
turned  out  into  the  Strand  until  we  arrived  at  our 
destination  I  saw  no  more  of  "Le  Balafre."  My 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAFE          119 

extensive  baggage  I  must  hope  to  recover  later. 

At  Bow  Road  Station  I  discovered  a  telephone 
"box  in  a  dark  corner  which  commanded  a  view  of 
the  street.  I  entered  this  box  and  waited.  It  was 
important  that  I  should  remain  invisible.  Unless 
my  bearded  friend  had  been  unusually  fortunate  he 
could  not  well  have  arrived  before  me. 

As  it  chanced  I  had  nearly  six  minutes  to  wait. 
Then,  not  ten  yards  away,  I  saw  "Le  Balafre" 
arrive  and  dismiss  the  cabman  outside  the  station* 
There  was  nothing  furtive  in  his  manner;  he  was 
evidently  satisfied  that  no  one  pursued  him ;  and  he 
stood  in  the  station  entrance  almost  outside  my  box 
and  lighted  a  cigar! 

Placing  his  bag  upon  the  floor,  he  lingered,  look- 
ing to  left  and  right,  when  suddenly  a  big  closed  car 
painted  dull  yellow  drew  up  beside  the  pavement. 
It  was  driven  by  a  brown-faced  chauffeur  whose 
nationality  I  found  difficulty  in  placing,  for  he  wore 
large  goggles.  But  before  I  could  determine  upon 
my  plan  of  action,  "Le  Balafre"  crossed  the  pave- 
ment and  entered  the  car — and  the  car  glided 
smoothly  away,  going  East.  A  passing  lorry  ob- 
structed my  view  and  I  even  failed  to  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  the  number  on  the  plate. 

But  I  had  seen  something  which  had  repaid  me. 
for  my  trouble.  As  the  man  of  the  scar  had  walked 
up  to  the  car,  he  had  exhibited  to  the  brown-skinned 
chauffeur  some  object  which  he  held  in  the  palm  of 
his  hand  ...  an  object  which  glittered  like  gold  I 


II.     "LE  BALAFRE 
CHAPTER  I 

I  BECOME  CHARLES   MALET 

BEHOLD  me  established  in  rooms  in  Battersea 
and  living  retired  during  the  day  while  I  per- 
mitted my  beard  to  grow.  I  had  recognized 
that  my  mystery  of  "The  Scorpion"  was  the  biggest 
case  which  had  ever  engaged  the  attention  of  the 
Service  de  Surete,  and  I  was  prepared,  if  necessary, 
to  devote  my  whole  time  for  twelve  months  to  its 
solution.  I  had  placed  myself  in  touch  with  Paris, 
and  had  had  certain  papers  and  licenses  forwarded 
to  me.  A  daily  bulletin  reached  me,  and  one  of  these 
bulletins  was  sensational. 

The  body  of  Jean  Sach  had  been  recovered  from 
the  Seine.  The  man  had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart. 
Surveillance  of  Miguel  and  his  associates  continued 
unceasingly,  but  I  had  directed  that  no  raids  or 
arrests  were  to  be  made  without  direct  orders  from 
me. 

I  was  now  possessed  of  a  French  motor  license 
and  also  that  of  a  Paris  taxi-driver,  together  with 
all  the  other  documents  necessary  to  establish  the 
identity  of  one  Charles  Malet.  Everything  was  in 
order.  I  presented  myself — now  handsomely 

1 20 


I  BECOME  CHARLES  MALET      121 

bearded — at  New  Scotland  Yard  and  applied  for  a 
license.  The  "knowledge  of  London"  and  other 
tests  I  passed  succes  fully  and  emerged  a  fully- 
fledged  cabman ! 

Already  I  had  opened  negotiations  for  the  pur- 
chase of  a  dilapidated  but  serviceable  cab  which 
belonged  to  a  small  proprietor  who  had  obtained  a 
car  of  more  up-to-date  pattern  to  replace  this  ob- 
solete one.  I  completed  these  negotiations  by  pay- 
ing down  a  certain  sum  and  arranged  to  garage  my 
cab  in  the  disused  stable  of  a  house  near  my  rooms 
in  Battersea. 

Thus  I  now  found  myself  in  a  position  to  appear 
anywhere  at  any  time  without  exciting  suspicion, 
enabled  swiftly  to  proceed  from  point  to  point  and 
to  pursue  anyone  either  walking  or  driving  whom 
it  might  please  me  to  pursue.  It  was  a  modus 
operandi  which  had  served  me  well  in  Paris  and 
whicti  had  led  to  one  of  my  biggest  successes  (the 
capture  of  the  French  desperado  known  as  "Mr. 
Q.")  in  New  York. 

I  had  obtained,  via  Paris,  particulars  of  the  recent 
death  of  Sir  Frank  Narcombe,  and  the  circumstances 
attendant  upon  his  end  were  so  similar  to  those 
which  had  characterized  the  fate  of  the  Grand  Duke, 
of  Van  Rembold  and  the  others,  that  I  could  not 
for  a  moment  believe  them  to  be  due  to  mere  coin- 
cidence. Acting  upon  my  advice  Paris  advised 
Scotland  Yard  to  press  for  a  post  mortem  examina- 
tion of  the  body,  but  the  influence  of  Sir  Frank's 


THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 


family  was  exercised  to  prevent  this  being  carried 
out  —  and  exercised  successfully. 

Meanwhile,  I  hovered  around  the  houses,  flats, 
clubs  and  offices  of  everyone  who  had  been  asso- 
ciated with  the  late  surgeon,  noting  to  what  ad- 
dresses they  directed  me  to  drive  and  who  lived  at 
those  addresses.  In  this  way  I  obtained  evidence 
sufficient  to  secure  three  judicial  separations,  but 
not  a  single  clue  leading  to  "The  Scorpion"!  No 
matter. 

At  every  available  oportunity  I  haunted  the  East- 
End  streets,  hoping  for  a  glimpse  of  the  big  car 
and  the  brown-skinned  chauffeur  or  of  my  scarred 
man  from  Paris.  I  frequented  all  sorts  of  public 
bars  and  eating-houses  used  by  foreign  sailors  and 
Asiatics.  By  day  and  by  night  I  roamed  about  the 
dismal  thoroughfares  of  that  depressing  district, 
usually  with  my  flag  down  to  imply  that  I  was  en- 
gaged. 

Such  diligence  never  goes  long  unrewarded.  One 
evening,  having  discharged  a  passenger,  a  mercan- 
tile officer,  at  the  East  India  Docks,  as  I  was  drift- 
ing, watchfully,  back  through  Limehouse,  I  saw  a 
large  car  pull  up  just  ahead  of  me  in  the  dark.  A 
man  got  out  and  the  car  was  driven  off. 

Two  courses  presented  themselves.  I  was  not  sure 
that  this  was  the  car  for  which  I  sought,  but  it 
strangely  resembled  it.  Should  I  follow  the  car  or 
the  man?  A  rapid  decision  was  called  for.  I  fol- 
lowed the  man. 


I  BECOME  CHARLES  MALET      123 

That  I  had  not  been  mistaken  in  the  identity  of 
the  car  shortly  appeared.  The  man  took  out  a 
cigar  and  standing  on  the  corner  opposite  the  Town 
Hall,  lighted  it.  I  was  close  to  him  at  the  time,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  match,  which  he  sheltered  with 
his  hands,  I  saw  the  scarred  and  bearded  face  I 
Triomphe  I  it  was  he ! 

Having  lighted  his  cigar,  he  crossed  the  road  and 
entered  the  saloon  of  a  neighbouring  public-house. 
Locking  my  cab  I,  also,  entered  that  saloon.  I 
ordered  a  glass  of  bitter  beer  and  glanced  around  at 
the  object  of  my  interest.  He  had  obtained  a  glass 
of  brandy  and  was  contorting  his  hideous  face  as  he 
sipped  the  beverage.  I  laughed. 

"Have  they  tried  to  poison  you,  mister!"  I  said. 

"Ah,  pardieu !  poison — yes !"  he  replied. 

"You  want  to  have  it  out  of  a  bottle,"  I  continued 
confidentially — "Kartell's  Three  Stars." 

He  stared  at  me  uncomprehendingly. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  haltingly.  "I  have  very 
little  English." 

"Oh,  that's  it!"  I  cried,  speaking  French  with  a 
barbarous  accent.  "You  only  speak  French?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  replied  eagerly.  "It  is  so  difficult 
to  make  oneself  understood.  This  spirit  is  not 
cognac,  it  is  some  kind  of  petrol !" 

Finishing  my  bitter,  I  ordered  two  glasses  of  good 
brandy  and  placed  one  before  "Le  Balafre." 

"Try  that,"  I  said,  continuing  to  speak  in  French. 
"You  will  find  it  is  better." 


124  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

He  sipped  from  his  glass  and  agreed  that  I  was 
right.  We  chatted  together  for  ten  minutes  and  had 
another  drink,  after  which  my  dangerous-looking 
acquaintance  wished  me  good-night  and  went  out. 
The  car  had  come  from  the  West,  and  I  strongly 
suspected  that  my  man  either  lived  in  the  neighbour- 
hood or  had  come  there  to  keep  an  appointment. 
Leaving  my  cab  outside  the  public-house,  I  followed 
him  on  foot,  down  Three  Colt  Street  to  Ropemaker 
Street,  where  he  turned  into  a  narrow  alley  leading 
to  the  riverside.  It  was  straight  and  deserted,  and 
I  dared  not  follow  further  until  he  had  reached  the 
corner.  I  heard  his  footsteps  pass  right  to  the  end. 
Then  the  sound  died  away.  I  ran  to  the  corner. 
The  back  of  a  wharf  building — a  high  blank  wall — 
faced  a  row  of  ramshackle  tenements,  some  of  them 
built  of  wood ;  but  not  a  soul  was  in  sight. 

I  reluctantly  returned  to  the  spot  at  which  I  had 
left  the  cab — and  found  a  constable  there  who 
wanted  to  know  what  I  meant  by  leaving  a  vehicle 
in  the  street  unattended.  I  managed  to  enlist  his 
sympathy  by  telling  him  that  I  had  been  in  pursuit 
of  a  "fare"  who  had  swindled  me  with  a  bad  half- 
crown.  The  ruse  succeeded. 

"Which  street  did  he  go  down,  mate?"  asked  the 
constable. 

I  described  the  street  and  described  the  scarred 
man.  The  constable  shook  his  head. 

"Sounds  like  one  o'  them  foreign  sailormen,"  he 
said.  "But  I  don't  know  what  he  can  have  gone 


I  BECOME  CHARLES  MALET      125 

down  there  for.    It's  nearly  all  Chinese,  that  part." 

His  words  came  as  a  revelation ;  they  changed  the 
whole  complexion  of  the  case.  It  dawned  upon 
me  even  as  he  spoke  the  word  "Chinese"  that  the 
golden  scorpion  which  I  had  seen  in  the  Paris  cafe 
was  of  Chinese  workmanship !  I  started  my  engine 
and  drove  slowly  to  that  street  in  which  I  had  lost 
the  track  of  "Le  Balafre."  I  turned  the  cab  so  that 
I  should  be  ready  to  drive  off  at  a  moment's  notice, 
and  sat  there  wondering  what  my  next  move  should 
be.  How  long  I  had  been  there  I  cannot  say,  when 
suddenly  it  began  to  rain  in  torrents. 

What  I  might  have  done  or  what  I  had  hoped  to 
do  is  of  no  importance;  for  as  I  sat  there  staring 
out  at  the  dismal  rain-swept  street,  a  man  came 
along,  saw  the  head-lamps  of  the  cab  and  stopped, 
peering  in  my  direction.  Evidently  perceiving  that 
I  drove  a  cab  and  not  a  private  car,  he  came  to- 
wards me. 

"Are  you  disengaged  ?"  he  asked. 

Whether  it  was  that  I  sympathized  with  him — he 
had  no  topcoat  or  umbrella — or  whether  I  was 
guided  by  Fate  I  know  not,  but  as  he  spoke  I  de- 
termined to  give  up  my  dreary  vigil  for  that  night. 
Pardieu!  but  certainly  it  was  Fate  again! 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  am,  sir,"  I  said,  and  asked  him 
where  he  wanted  to  go. 

He  gave  an  address  not  five  hundred  yards  from 
my  own  rooms!  I  thought  this  so  curious  that  I 
hesitated  no  longer. 


126  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Jump  in,"  I  said;  and  still  seeking  in  my  mind 
for  a  link  between  the  scorpion  case  and  China,  I 
drove  off,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  for  the 
streets  were  nearly  empty,  arrived  at  my  destination. 

The  passenger,  whose  name  was  Dr.  Keppel 
Stuart,  very  kindly  suggested  a  glass  of  hot  grog, 
and  I  did  not  refuse  his  preferred  hospitality.  When 
I  came  out  of  his  house  again,  the  rain  had  almost 
ceased,  and  just  as  I  stooped  to  crank  the  car  I 
thought  I  saw  a  shadowy  figure  moving  near  the 
end  of  a  lane  which  led  to  the  tradesmen's  entrance 
of  Dr.  Stuart's  house.  A  sudden  suspicion  laid  hold 
upon  me — a  horrible  doubt. 

Having  driven  some  twenty  yards  along  the  road, 
I  leaned  from  my  seat  and  looked  back.  A  big  man 
wearing  a  black  waterproof  overall  was  standing 
looking  after  me ! 

Remembering  how  cleverly  I  had  been  trailed 
from  Miguel's  cafe  to  my  flat,  in  Paris  (for  I  no 
longer  doubted  that  someone  had  followed  me  on 
that  occasion),  I  now  perceived  that  I  might  again 
be  the  object  of  the  same  expert's  attention.  Stop- 
ping my  engine  half-way  along  the  next  road,  I 
jumped  out  and  ran  back,  hiding  in  the  bushes  which 
grew  beside  the  gate  of  a  large  empty  house.  I 
had  only  a  few  seconds  to  wait. 

A  big  closed  car,  running  almost  silently,  passed 
before  me  .  .  .  and  "Le  Balafre"  was  leaning  out 
of  the  window! 

At  last  I  saw  my  chance  of  finding  the  headquar- 


I  BECOME  CHARLES  MALET        127 

ters  of  "The  Scorpion."  Alas !  The  man  of  the  scar 
was  as  swift  to  recognize  that  possibility  as  I.  A 
moment  after  he  had  passed  my  stationary  cab,  and 
found  it  to  be  deserted,  his  big  car  was  off  like  the 
wind,  and  even  before  I  could  step  out  from  the 
bushes  the  roar  of  the  powerful  engine  was  growing 
dim  in  the  distance! 

I  was  detected.  I  had  to  deal  with  dangerously 
clever  people. 


CHAPTER  II 

BAITING  THE  TRAP 

THE  following  morning  I  spent  at  home,  in  my 
modest  rooms,  reviewing  my  position  and 
endeavouring  to  adjust  my  plans  in  accordance 
with  the  latest  development.  "The  Scorpion"  had 
scored  a  point.  What  had  aroused  the  suspicions 
of  "Le  Balaf re,"  I  knew  not ;  but  I  was  inclined  to 
think  that  he  had  been  looking  from  some  window 
or  peep-hole  in  the  narrow  street  with  the  wooden 
houses  when  I  had,  injudiciously,  followed  him 
there. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  leakage  might  be  in  Paris 
— or  in  my  correspondence  system.  The  man  of  the 
scar  might  have  been  looking  for  me  as  I  was  look- 
ing for  him.  That  he  was  looking  for  someone  on 
the  cross-channel  boat  I  had  not  doubted. 

He  was  aware,  then,  that  Charles  Malet,  cabman, 
was  watching  him.  But  was  he  aware  that  Charles 
Malet  was  Gaston  Max  ?  And  did  he  know  where  I 
lived  ?  Also— did  he  perchance  think  that  my  meet- 
ing with  Dr.  Stuart  in  Limehouse  had  been  pre- 
arranged ?  Clearly  he  had  seen  Dr.  Stuart  enter  my 
cab,  for  he  had  pursued  us  to  Battersea. 

This  course  of  reflection  presently  led  me  to  a 
plan.  It  was  a  dangerous  plan,  but  I  doubted  if  I 

128 


BAITING  THE  TRAP  129 

should  ever  find  myself  in  greater  danger  than  I  was 
in  already.  Now,  d'un  nom!  I  had  not  forgotten 
the  poor  Jean  $ach ! 

That  night,  well  knowing  that  I  carried  my  life  in 
my  hands,  I  drove  again  to  Limehouse  Town  Hall, 
and  again  leaving  my  cab  outside  went  into  the  bar 
where  I  had  previously  met  "Le  Balafre."  If  I 
had  doubted  that  my  movements  were  watched  I 
must  now  have  had  such  doubts  dispelled ;  for  two 
minutes  later  the  man  with  the  scar  came  in  and 
greeted  me  affably! 

I  had  learned  something  else.  He  did  not  know 
that  I  had  recognized  him  as  the  person  who  had 
tracked  me  to  Dr.  Stuart's  house! 

He  invited  me  to  drink  with  him,  and  I  did  so. 
As  we  raised  our  glasses  I  made  a  move.  Looking 
all  about  me  suspiciously: 

"Am  I  right  in  supposing  that  you  have  business 
in  this  part  of  London  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "My  affairs  bring  me  hertf 
sometimes." 

"You  are  well  acquainted  with  the  neighbour^ 
hood?" 

"Fairly  well.  But  actually  of  course  I  am  a 
stranger  to  London." 

I  tapped  him  confidentially  upon  the  breast. 

"Take  my  advice,  as  a  friend,"  I  said,  "and  visit 
these  parts  as  rarely  as  possible." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"It  is  dangerous.  From  the  friendly  manner  in 


I3o  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

which  you  entered  into  conversation  with  me,  I 
perceived  that  you  were  of  a  genial  and  unsuspicious 
nature.  Very  well.  I  warn  you.  Last  night  I  was 
followed  from  a  certain  street  not  far  from  here 
to  the  house  of  a  medical  man  who  is  a  specialist  in 
certain  kinds  of  criminology,  you  understand." 

He  stared  at  me  very  hard,  his  teeth  bared  by  that 
fearful  snarl.  "You  are  a  strange  cabman." 

"Perhaps  I  am.  No  matter.  Take  my  advice. 
I  have  things  written  here" — I  tapped  the  breast 
of  my  tunic — "which  will  astonish  all  the  world 
shortly.  I  tell  you,  my  friend,  my  fortune  is  made." 

I  finished  my  drink  and  ordered  another  for  my- 
self and  one  for  my  acquaintance.  He  was  watching 
me  doubtfully.  Taking  up  my  replenished  glass,  I 
emptied  it  at  a  draught  and  ordered  a  third.  I 
leaned  over  towards  the  scarred  man,  resting  my 
hand  heavily  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Five  thousand  pounds,"  I  whispered  thickly,  "has 
been  offered  for  the  information  which  I  have  here 
in  my  pocket.  It  is  not  yet  complete,  you  under- 
stand, and  because  they  may  murder  me  before  I 
obtain  the  rest  of  the  facts,  do  you  know  what  I  am 
going  to  do  with  this  ? 

Again  I  tapped  my  tunic  pocket.  "Le  Balafre" 
frowned  perplexedly. 

"I  don't  even  know  what  you  are  talking  about, 
my  friend,"  he  replied. 

"I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,"  I  assured  him, 
speaking  more  and  more  huskily.  "Listen,  then: 


BAITING  THE  TRAP  131 

I  am  going  to  take  all  my  notes  to  my  friend,  the 
doctor,  and  leave  them  with  him,  sealed — sealed, 
you  follow  me?  If  I  do  not  come  back  for  them, 
in  a  week,  shall  we  say? — he  sends  them  to  the 
police.  /  do  not  profit,  you  think?  No,  mcrbleu! 
but  there  are  some  who  hang!" 

Emptying  my  third  glass,  I  ordered  a  fourth  and 
one  for  my  companion.  He  checked  me. 

"No  more  for  me,  thank  you,"  he  said.  "I  have — 
business  to  attend  to.  I  will  wish  you  good-night." 

"Good-night!"  I  cried  boisterously — "good-night, 
friend!  Take  heed  of  my  good  advice!" 

As  he  went  out,  the  barman  brought  me  my  fourth 
glass  of  cognac,  staring  at  me  doubtfully.  Ou* 
conversation  had  been  conducted  in  French,  but  the 
tone  of  my  voice  had  attracted  attention. 

"Had  about  enough,  ain't  you,  mate?"  he  said. 
"Your  ugly  pal  jibbed !" 

"Quite  enough!"  I  replied,  in  English  now  of 
course.  "But  I've  had  a  stroke  of  luck  to-night  and 
I  feel  happy.  Have  one  with  me.  This  is  a  final." 

On  going  out  into  the  street  I  looked  cautiously 
about  me,  for  I  did  not  expect  to  reach  the  house  of 
Dr.  Stuart  unmolested.  I  credited  "Le  Balafre" 
with  sufficient  acumen  to  distrust  the  genuineness 
of  my  intoxication,  even  if  he  was  unaware  of  my 
real  identity.  I  never  make  the  mistake  of  under- 
estimating an  opponent's  wit,  and  whilst  acting  on 
the  assumption  that  the  scarred  man  knew  me  to  be 
forcing  his  hand,  I  recognized  that  whether  he 


132  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

believed  me  to  be  drunk  or  sober,  Gaston  Max  or 
another,  his  line  of  conduct  must  be  the  same.  He 
must  take  it  for  granted  that  I  actually  designed  to 
lodge  my  notes  with  Dr.  Stuart  and  endeavour  to 
prevent  me  doing  so. 

I  could  detect  no  evidence  of  surveillance  what- 
ever and  cranking  the  engine  I  mounted  and  drove 
off.  More  than  once,  as  I  passed  along  Commercial 
Road,  I  stopped  and  looked  back.  But  so  far  as  I 
could  make  out  no  one  was  following  me.  The 
greater  part  of  my  route  lay  along  populous  thor- 
oughfares, and  of  this  I  was  not  sorry;  but  I  did 
not  relish  the  prospect  of  Thames  Street,  along 
which  presently  my  course  led  me. 

Leaving  the  city  behind  me,  I  turned  into  that 
thoroughfare,  which  at  night  is  almost  quite  de- 
serted, and  there  I  pulled  up.  Pardieu!  I  was  dis- 
appointed! It  seemed  as  though  my  scheme  had 
miscarried.  I  could  not  understand  why  I  had  been 
permitted  to  go  unmolested,  and  I  intended  to  walk 
back  to  the  corner  for  a  final  survey  before  con- 
tinuing my  journey.  This  survey  was  never  made. 

As  I  stopped  the  cab  and  prepared  to  descend,  a 
faint — a  very  faint — sound  almost  in  my  ear,  set 
me  keenly  on  the  alert.  Just  in  the  nick  of  time  I 
ducked  ...  as  the  blade  of  a  long  knife  flashed 
past  my  head,  ripping  its  way  through  my  cloth  cap ! 

Yes!  That  movement  had  saved  my  life,  for 
otherwise  the  knife  must  have  entered  my  shoulder 
• — and  pierced  to  my  heart! 


BAITING  THE  TRAP  133 

Someone  was  hidden  in  the  cab! 

He  had  quietly  opened  one  of  the  front  windows 
and  had  awaited  a  suitable  opportunity  to  stab  me. 
Now,  recognizing  failure,  he  leapt  out  on  the  near 
side  as  I  lurched  and  stumbled  from  my  seat,  and 
ran  off  like  the  wind.  I  never  so  much  as  glimpsed 
him. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  I  muttered,  raising  my  hand  to  my 
head,  from  which  blood  was  trickling  down  my  face, 
"the  plan  succeeds!" 

I  bound  a  handkerchief  as  tightly  as  possible 
around  the  wound  in  my  scalp  and  put  my  cap  on 
to  keep  the  bandage  in  place.  The  wound  was  only 
a  superficial  one,  and  except  for  the  bleeding  I 
suffered  no  inconvenience  from  it.  But  I  had  now 
a  legitimate  reason  for  visiting  Dr.  Stuart,  and  as 
I  drove  on  towards  Battersea  I  was  modifying  my 
original  plan  in  accordance  with  the  unforeseen  con- 
ditions. 

It  was  long  past  Dr.  Stuart's  hours  of  consulta- 
tion when  I  arrived  at  his  house,  and  the  servant 
showed  me  into  a  waiting-room,  informing  me  that 
the  doctor  would  join  me  in  a  few  minutes.  Directly 
she  had  gone  out  I  took  from  the  pocket  of  my  tunic 
the  sealed  envelope  which  I  had  intended  to  lodge 
with  the  doctor.  Pah!  it  was  stained  with  blood 
which  had  trickled  down  from  the  wound  in  my 
scalp! 

Actually,  you  will  say,  there  was  no  reason  why  I 
should  place  a  letter  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Stuart; 


I34          '  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

my  purpose  would  equally  well  be  served  by  pre- 
tending that  I  had  done  so.  Ah,  but  I  knew  that  I 
had  to  deal  with  clever  people — with  artists  in 
crime — and  it  behooved  me  to  be  an  artist  also.  I 
had  good  reason  to  know  that  their  system  of 
espionage  was  efficient;  and  the  slipshod  way  is 
ever  the  wrong  way. 

The  unpleasantly  sticky  letter  I  returned  to  my 
pocket,  looking  around  me  for  some  means  of 
making  up  any  kind  of  packet  which  could  do  duty 
as  a  substitute.  Beyond  a  curtain  draped  over  a 
recess  at  one  end  of  the  waiting-room  I  saw  a  row 
of  boxes,  a  box  of  lint  and  other  medical  para- 
phernalia. It  was  the  doctor's  dispensary.  Perhaps 
I  might  find  there  an  envelope. 

I  crossed  the  room  and  looked.  Immediately 
around  the  corner,  on  a  level  with  my  eyes,  was  a 
packet  of  foolscap  envelopes  and  a  stick  of  black 
sealing-wax!  Bien!  all  that  I  now  required  was  a 
stout  sheet  of  paper  to  enclose  in  one  of  those  en- 
velopes. But  not  a  scrap  of  paper  could  I  find,  ex- 
cept the  blood-stained  letter  in  my  pocket — towards 
which  I  had  formed  a  strong  antipathy.  I  had  not 
even  a  newspaper  in  my  possession.  I  thought  of 
folding  three  or  four  envelopes,  but  there  were  only 
six  in  all,  and  the  absence  of  so  many  might  be 
noted. 

Drawing  aside  a  baize  curtain  which  hung  from 
the  bottom  shelf,  I  discovered  a  number  of  old 
card-board  boxes.  It  was  sufficient.  With  a  pair 


BAITING  THE  TRAP  135 

of  surgical  scissors  I  cut  a  piece  from  the  lid  of  one 
and  thrust  it  into  an  envelope,  gumming  down  the 
lapel.  At  a  little  gas  jet  intended  for  the  purpose 
I  closed  both  ends  with  wax  and — singular  coin- 
cidence ! — finding  a  Chinese  coin  fastened  to  a  cork 
lying  on  the  shelf,  my  sense  of  humour  prompted 
me  to  use  it  as  a  seal !  Finally,  to  add  to  the  veri- 
similitude of  the  affair  I  borrowed  a  pen  which 
rested  in  a  bottle  of  red  ink  and  wrote  upon  the 
enveope  the  number :  30,  that  day  being  the  thirtieth 
day  of  the  month. 

It  was  well  that  the  artist  within  me  had  dictated 
this  careful  elaboration,  as  became  evident  a  few 
minutes  later  when  the  doctor  appeared  at  the  head 
of  a  short  flight  of  stairs  and  requested  me  to  step 
up  into  his  consulting-room.  It  was  a  small  room, 
so  that  the  window,  over  which  a  linen  blind  was 
drawn,  occupied  nearly  the  whole  of  one  wall.  As 
Dr.  Stuart,  having  examined  the  cut  on  my  scalp, 
descended  to  the  dispensary  for  lint,  the  habits  of  a 
lifetime  asserted  themselves. 

I  quickly  switched  off  the  light  and  peeped  out  of 
the  window  around  the  edge  of  the  blind,  which  I 
drew  slightly  aside.  In  the  shadow  of  the  wall  upon 
the  opposite  side  of  the  narrow  lane  a  man  was 
standing !  I  turned  on  the  light  again.  The  watcher 
should  not  be  disappointed! 

My  skull  being  dressed,  I  broached  the  subject  of 
the  letter,  which  I  said  I  had  found  in  my  cab  after 
the  accident  which  had  caused  the  injury. 


I36  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Someone  left  this  behind  to-day,  sir,"  I  said; 
"perhaps  the  gentleman  who  was  with  me  when  I 
had  the  accident;  and  I've  got  no  means  of  tracing 
him.  He  may  be  able  to  trace  me,  though,  or  he  may 
advertise.  It  evidently  contains  something  valuable. 
1  wonder  if  you  would  do  me  a  small  favour? 
Would  you  mind  taking  charge  of  it  for  a  week  or 
so,  until  it  is  claimed?" 

He  asked  me  why  I  did  not  take  it  to  Scotland 
Yard. 

"Because,"  said  I,  "if  the  owner  claims  it  from 
Scotland  Yard  he  is  less  likely  to  be  generous  than  if 
he  gets  it  direct  from  me  I" 

"But  what  is  the  point,"  asked  Dr.  Stuart,  "in 
leaving  it  here?" 

I  explained  that  if  /  kept  the  letter  I  might  be 
suspected  of  an  intention  of  stealing  it,  whereas 
directly  there  was  any  inquiry,  he  could  certify  that 
I  had  left  it  in  his  charge.  He  seemed  to  be  satisfied 
and  asked  me  to  come  into  his  study  for  a  moment. 
The  man  in  the  lane  was  probably  satisfied,  too.  I 
had  stood  three  paces  from  the  table-lamp  all  the 
time,  waving  the  letter  about  as  I  talked,  and  casting 
a  bold  shadow  on  the  linen  blind! 

The  first  thing  that  struck  me  as  I  entered  the 
doctor's  study  was  that  the  French  windows,  which 
opened  on  a  sheltered  lawn,  were  open.  I  acted 
accordingly. 

"You  see,"  said  Dr.  Stuart,  "I  am  enclosing  your 
letter  in  this  big  envelope  which  I  am  sealing." 


BAITING  THE  TRAP  137 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  standing  at  some  distance 
from  him,  so  that  he  had  to  speak  loudly.  "And 
would  you  mind  addressing  it  to  the  Lost  Property 
Office." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  he,  and  did  as  I  suggested.  "II 
not  reclaimed  within  a  reasonable  time,  it  will  be 
sent  to  Scotland  Yard." 

I  edged  nearer  to  the  open  window. 

"If  it  is  not  reclaimed,"  I  said  loudly,  "it  goes  to 
Scotland  Yard — yes." 

"Meanwhile,"  concluded  the  doctor,  "I  am  locking 
it  in  this  private  drawer  in  my  bureau." 

"It  is  locked  in  your  bureau.    Very  good." 


CHAPTER  III 

DISAPPEARANCE  OF  CHARLES  MALET 

KNOWING,  and  I  knew  it  well,  that  people  of 
"The  Scorpion"  were  watching,  I  do  not  pre- 
tend that  I  felt  at  my  ease  as  I  drove  around 
to  the  empty  house  in  which  I  garaged  my  cab.    My 
inquiry  had  entered  upon  another  stage,  and  Charles 
Malet  was  about  to  disappear  from  the  case.    I  was 
well  aware  that  if  he  failed  in  his  vigilance  for  a 
single  moment  he  might  well  disappear  from  the 
world ! 

The  path  which  led  to  the  stables  was  overgrown 
with  weeds  and  flanked  by  ragged  bushes;  weeds 
and  grass  sprouted  between  the  stones  paving  the 
little  yard,  also,  although  they  were  withered  to  a 
great  extent  by  the  petrol  recently  spilled  there. 
Having  run  the  cab  into  the  yard,  I  alighted  and 
looked  around  the  deserted  grounds,  mysterious  in 
the  moonlight.  Company  would  have  been  welcome, 
but  excepting  a  constable  who  had  stopped  and 
chatted  with  me  on  one  or  two  evenings  I  always 
had  the  stables  to  myself  at  night. 

I  determined  to  run  the  cab  into  the  stable  and 
lock  it  up  without  delay,  for  it  was  palpably  danger- 
ous in  the  circumstances  to  remain  longer  than  nec- 
essary in  that  lonely  spot.  Hurriedly  I  began  to 

138 


DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MALET        139 

put  out  the  lamps.  I  unlocked  the  stable  doors  and 
stood  looking  all  about  me  again.  I  was  dreading 
the  ordeal  of  driving  the  cab  those  last  ten  yards  into 
the  garage,  for  whilst  I  had  my  back  to  the  wilder- 
ness of  bushes  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  anyone 
in  hiding  there  to  come  up  behind  me. 

Nevertheless,  it  had  to  be  done.  Seating  myself 
at  the  wheel  I  drove  into  the  narrow  building, 
stopped  the  engine  and  peered  cautiously  around  to- 
wards the  bright  square  formed  by  the  open  doors. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen.  No  shadow  moved. 

A  magazine  pistol  held  in  my  hand,  I  crept,  step 
by  step,  along  the  wall  until  I  stood  just  within  the 
opening.  There  I  stopped. 

I  could  hear  a  sound  of  quick  breathing  1  There 
was  someone  waiting  outside  I 

Dropping  quietly  down  upon  the  pavement,  I 
slowly  protruded  my  head  around  the  angle  of  the 
brick  wall  at  a  point  not  four  inches  above  the 
ground.  I  knew  that  whoever  waited  would  have 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  doorway  at  the  level  of  a 
man's  head. 

Close  to  the  wall,  a  pistol  in  his  left  hand  and  an 
upraised  stand-bag  in  his  right,  stood  "Le  Balaf re !" 
His  eyes  gleamed  savagely  in  the  light  of  the  moon 
and  his  teeth  were  bared  in  that  fearful  animal 
snarl.  But  he  had  not  seen  me. 

Inch  by  inch  I  thrust  my  pistol  forward,  the  barrel 
raised  sharply.  I  could  not  be  sure  of  my  aim,  of 
course,  nor  had  I  time  to  judge  it  carefully. 


140  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

I  fired. 

The  bullet  was  meant  for  his  right  wrist,  but  it 
struck  him  in  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm.  Uttering 
a  ferocious  cry  he  leapt  back,  dropped  his  pistol — 
and  perceiving  me  as  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  lashed  at 
my  head  with  the  sand-bag.  I  raised  my  left  arm 
to  guard  my  skull  and  sustained  the  full  force  of  the 
blow  upon  it. 

I  staggered  back  against  the  wall,  and  my  own 
pistol  was  knocked  from  my  grasp!  My  left  arm 
was  temporarily  useless  and  the  man  of  the  scar  was 
deprived  of  the  use  of  his  right.  Pardieu!  1  had 
the  better  chance! 

He  hurled  himself  upon  me. 

Instantly  he  recovered  the  advantage,  for  he 
grasped  me  by  the  throat  with  his  left  hand — and, 
nom  d'un  nom!  what  a  grip  he  had!  Flat  against 
the  wall  he  held  me,  and  began,  his  teeth  bared  in 
that  fearful  grin,  to  crush  the  life  from  me. 

To  such  an  attack  there  was  only  one  counter.  I 
kicked  him  savagely — and  that  death-grip  relaxed. 
I  writhed,  twisted — and  was  free!  As  I  regained 
my  freedom  I  struck  up  at  him,  and  by  great  good 
fortune  caught  him  upon  the  point  of  the  jaw.  He 
staggered.  I  struck  him  over  the  heart,  and  he 
fell.  I  pounced  upon  him,  exulting,  for  he  had 
sought  my  life  and  I  knew  no  pity. 

Yet  I  had  not  thought  so  strong  a  man  would 
choke  so  easily,  and  for  some  moments  I  stood 
looking  down  at  him,  believing  that  he  sought  to 


DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MALET        141 

trick  me.  But  it  was  not  so.  His  affair  was 
finished. 

I  listened.  The  situation  in  which  I  found  myself 
was  full  of  difficulty.  An  owl  screeched  somewhere 
in  the  trees,  but  nothing  else  stirred.  The  sound  of 
the  shot  had  not  attracted  attention,  apparently.  I 
stooped  and  examined  the  garments  of  the  man  who 
lay  at  my  feet. 

He  carried  a  travel  coupon  to  Paris  bearing  that 
day's  date,  together  with  some  other  papers,  but, 
although  I  searched  all  his  pockets,  I  could  find 
nothing  of  real  interest,  until  in  an  inside  pocket  of 
his  coat  I  felt  some  hard,,  irregularly  shaped  object. 
I  withdrew  it,  and  in  the  moonlight  it  lay  glittering 
in  my  palm  ...  a  golden  scorpion! 

It  had  apparently  been  broken  in  the  struggle. 
The  tail  was  missing,  nor  could  I  find  it ;  but  I  must 
confess  that  I  did  not  prolong  the  search. 

Some  chance  effect  produced  by  the  shadow  of  the 
moonlight,  and  the  presence  of  that  recently  pur- 
chased ticket,  gave  me  the  idea  upon  which  without 
delay  I  proceeded  to  act.  Satisfying  myself  that  there 
was  no  mark  upon  any  of  his  garments  by  which  the 
man  could  be  identified,  I  unlocked  from  my  wrist 
an  identification  disk  which  I  habitually  wore  there, 
and  locked  it  upon  the  wrist  of  the  man  with  the 
scar! 

Clearly,  I  argued,  he  had  been  detailed  to  dispatch 
xne  and  then  to  leave  at  once  for  France.  I  would 
oake  it  appear  that  he  had  succeeded 


142  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Behold  me,  ten  minutes  later,  driving  slowly  along 
a  part  of  the  Thames  Embankment  which  I  chanced 
to  remember,  a  gruesome  passenger  riding  behind 
me  in  the  cab.  I  was  reflecting  as  I  kept  a  sharp 
look-out  for  a  spot  which  I  had  noted  one  day  during 
my  travels,  how  easily  one  could  commit  murder 
in  London,  when  a  constable  ran  out  and  intercepted 
me! 

Mon  Dieu!  how  my  heart  leapt ! 

"I'll  trouble  you  for  your  name  and  number,  my 
lad,"  he  said. 

"What  for?"  I  asked,  and  remembering  a  rare 
fragment  of  idiom:  "What's  up  with  you?"  I  added. 

"Your  lamp's  out!"  he  cried,  "that's  what's  up 
with  me!" 

"Oh,"  said  I,  climbing  from  my  seat — "very  well. 
I'm  sorry.  I  didn't  know.  But  here  is  my  license." 

I  nanded  him  the  little  booklet  and  began  to  light 
my  lamps,  cursing  myself  for  a  dreadful  artist  be- 
cause I  had  forgotten  to  do  so. 

"All  right,"  he  replied,  and  handed  it  back  to  me. 
"But  how  the  devil  you've  managed  to  get  all  your 
lamps  out,  I  can't  imagine!" 

"This  is  my  first  job  since  dusk,"  I  explained, 
hurrying  around  to  the  tail-light. 

"And  he  don't  say  much!"  remarked  the  con- 
stable. 

I  replaced  my  matches  in  my  pocket  and  returned 
to  the  front  of  the  cab,  making  a  gesture  as  of  one 
raising  a  glass  to  his  lips  and  jerking  my  thumb 


DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MALET        143 

across  my  shoulder  in  the  direction  of  my  unseen 
fare. 

"Oh,  that's  it !"  said  the  constable,  and  moved  off. 

Never  in  my  whole  career  have  I  been  so  glad  to 
see  the  back  of  any  man ! 

I  drove  on  slowly.  The  point  for  which  I  was 
making  was  only  some  three  hundred  yards  further 
along,  but  I  had  noted  that  the  constable  had  walked 
off  in  the  opposite  direction.  Therefore,  arriving 
at  my  destination — a  vacant  wharf  open  to  the  road 
— I  pulled  up  and  listened. 

Only  the  wash  of  the  tide  upon  the  piles  of  th« 
wharf  was  audible,  for  the  night  was  now  far 
advanced. 

I  opened  the  door  of  the  cab  and  dragged  out 
"Le  Balafre."  Right  and  left  I  peered,  truly  like  a 
stage  villain,  and  then  hauled  my  unpleasant  burden 
along  the  irregularly  paved  path  and  on  to  the  little 
"wharf.  Out  in  mid-stream  a  Thames  Police  patrol 
was  passing,  and  I  stood  for  a  moment  until  the 
creak  of  the  oars  grew  dim. 

Then :  there  was  a  dull  splash  far  below  .  .  .  and 
silence  again. 

Gaston  Max  had  been  consigned  to  a  watery 
grave ! 

Returning  again  to  the  garage,  I  wondered  very 
much  who  he  had  been,  this  one,  "Le  Balafre." 
Could  it  be  that  he  was  "The  Scorpion"?  I  could 
not  tell,  but  I  had  hopes  very  shortly  of  finding  out. 

I  had  settled  up  my  affairs  with  my  landlady  and 


144  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

had  removed  from  my  apartments  all  papers  and 
other  effects.  In  the  garage  I  had  placed  a  good 
suit  of  clothes  and  other  necessities,  and  by  tele- 
phone I  had  secured  a  room  at  a  West-End  hotel. 

The  cab  returned  to  the  stable,  I  locked  the  door, 
and  by  the  light  of  one  of  the  lamps,  shaved  off  my 
beard  and  moustache.  My  uniform  and  cap  I  hung 
up  on  the  hook  where  I  usually  left  them  after 
working  hours,  and  changed  into  the  suit  which  I 
had  placed  there  in  readiness.  I  next  destroyed  all 
evidences  of  identity  and  left  the  place  in  a  neat 
condition.  I  extinguished  the  lamp,  went  out  and 
locked  the  door  behind  me,  and  carrying  a  travelling- 
grip  and  a  cane  I  set  off  for  my  new  hotel. 

Charles  Malet  had  disappeared  I 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  MEET  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 

ON  the  corner  opposite  Dr.  Stuart's  establish- 
ment stood  a  house  which  was  "to  be  let  or 
sold."     From  the  estate-agent  whose  name 
appeared  upon  the  notice-board  I  obtained  the  keys 
— and  had  a  duplicate  made  of  that  which  opened 
the  front  door.    It  was  a  simple  matter,  and  the 
locksmith  returned  both  keys  to  me  within  an  hour. 
I   informed  the  agent  that  the  house  would  not 
suit  me. 

Nevertheless,  having  bolted  the  door,  in  order 
that  prospective  purchasers  might  not  surprise  me, 
I  "camped  out"  in  an  upper  room  all  day,  watching 
from  behind  the  screen  of  trees  all  who  came  to  the 
house  of  Dr.  Stuart.  Dusk  found  me  still  at  my 
post,  armed  with  a  pair  of  good  binoculars.  Every 
patient  who  presented  himself  I  scrutinized  care- 
fully, and  finding  as  the  darkness  grew  that  it  be- 
came increasingly  difficult  to  discern  the  features  of 
visitors,  I  descended  to  the  front  garden  and  re- 
sumed my  watch  from  the  lower  branches  of  a  tree 
which  stood  some  twenty  feet  from  the  roadway. 

At  selected  intervals  I  crept  from  my  post  and 
surveyed  the  lane  upon  which  the  window  of  the 
consulting-room  opened  and  also  the  path  leading 

145 


146  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

to  the  tradesmen's  entrance,  from  which  one  might 
look  across  the  lawn  and  in  at  the  open  study  win- 
dows. It  was  during  one  of  these  tours  of  inspec- 
tion and  whilst  I  was  actually  peering  through  a  gap 
in  the  hedge,  that  I  heard  the  telephone  bell.  Dr. 
Stuart  was  in  the  study  and  I  heard  him  speaking. 

I  gathered  that  his  services  were  required  imme- 
diately at  some  institution  in  the  neighbourhood.  I 
saw  him  take  his  hat,  stick  and  bag  from  the  sofa 
and  go  out  of  the  room.  Then  I  returned  to  the 
front  garden  of  my  vacant  house. 

No  one  appeared  for  some  time.  A  policeman 
walked  slowly  up  the  road,  and  flashed  his  lantern 
in  at  the  gate  of  the  house  I  had  commandeered.  His 
footsteps  died  away.  Then,  faintly,  I  heard  the 
hum  of  a  powerful  motor.  I  held  my  breath.  The 
approaching  car  turned  into  the  road  at  a  point 
above  me  to  the  right,  came  nearer  .  .  .  and  stopped 
before  Dr.  Stuart's  door. 

I  focussed  my  binoculars  upon  the  chauffeur. 

It  was  the  brown-skinned  man!  Nom  d'un  nom! 
a  woman  was  descending  from  the  car.  She  was  en- 
veloped in  furs  and  I  could  not  see  her  face.  She 
walked  up  the  steps  to  the  door  and  was  admitted. 

The  chauffeur  backed  the  car  into  the  lane  beside 
the  house. 

My  heart  beating  rapidly  with  excitement,  I 
crept  out  by  the  further  gate  of  the  drive,  crossed 
the  road  at  a  point  fifty  yards  above  the  house  and 
walking  very  quietly  came  back  to  the  tradesmen's 


I  MEET  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE   14; 

entrance.  Into  its  enveloping  darkness  I  glided 
and  on  until  I  could  peep  across  the  lawn. 

The  elegant  visitor,  as  I  hoped,  had  been  shown, 
not  into  the  ordinary  waiting-room  but  into  the 
doctor's  study.  She  was  seated  with  her  back  to 
the  window,  talking  to  a  grey-haired  old  lady — prob- 
ably the  doctor's  housekeeper.  Impatiently  I  waited 
for  this  old  lady  to  depart,  and  the  moment  that  she 
did  so,  the  visitor  stood  up,  turned  and  ...  it  was 
Zara  el-Khala! 

It  was  only  with  difficulty  that  I  restrained  the 
cry  of  triumph  which  arose  to  my  lips.  On  the 
instant  that  the  study  door  closed,  Zara  el-Khala 
began  to  try  a  number  of  keys  which  she  took  from 
her  handbag  upon  the  various  drawers  of  the 
bureau ! 

"So !"  I  said — "they  are  uncertain  of  the  drawer  I" 

Suddenly  she  desisted,  looking  nervously  at  the 
open  windows ;  then,  crossing  the  room,  she  drew 
the  curtains.  I  crept  out  into  the  road  again  and 
by  the  same  roundabout  route  came  back  to  the 
empty  house.  Feeling  my  way  in  the  darkness  of 
the  shrubbery,  I  found  the  motor  bicycle  which  I 
had  hidden  there  and  I  wheeled  it  down  to  the 
further  gate  of  the  drive  and  waited. 

I  could  see  the  doctor's  door,  and  I  saw  him 
returning  along  the  road.  As  he  appeared,  from 
somewhere — I  could  not  determine  from  where — 
came  a  strange  and  uncanny  wailing  sound,  a  sound 
'that  chilled  me  like  an  evil  omen. 


148  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Even  as  it  died  away,  and  before  Dr.  Stuart  had 
reached  his  door  I  knew  what  it  portended — that 
horrible  wail.  Some  one  hidden  I  knew  not  where, 
had  warned  Zara  el-Khala  that  the  doctor  returned  I 
But  stay!  Perhaps  that  some  one  was  the  dark- 
skinned  chauffeur ! 

How  I  congratulated  myself  upon  the  precautions 
which  I  had  taken  to  escape  observation !  Evidently 
the  watcher  had  placed  himself  somewhere  where 
he  could  command  a  view  of  the  front  door  and  the 
road. 

Five  minutes  later  the  girl  came  out,  the  old 
housekeeper  accompanying  her  to  the  door,  the  car 
emerged  from  the  lane,  Zara  el-Khala  entered  it 
and  was  driven  away.  I  could  see  no  third  person 
inside  the  car,  and  no  one  was  seated  beside  the 
chauffeur.  I  started  my  "Indian"  and  leapt  in 
pursuit. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  the  route  was  Eastward,  and 
I  found  myself  traversing  familiar  ground.  From 
the  south-west  to  the  east  of  London  whirled  the  big 
car  of  mystery — and  I  was  ever  close  behind  it. 
Sometimes,  in  the  crowded  streets,  I  lost  sight  of 
my  quarry  for  a  time,  but  always  I  caught  up  again, 
and  at  last  I  found  myself  whirling  along  Commer- 
cial Road  and  not  fifty  yards  behind  the  car. 

Just  by  the  canal  bridge  a  drunken  sailor  lurched 
out  in  front  of  my  wheel,  and  only  by  twisting  peri- 
lously right  into  a  turning  called,  I  believe,  Salmon 
Lane,  did  I  avoid  running  him  down. 


I  MEET  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE   149 

Sacre  now, I  how  I  cursed  him!  The  lane  was  too 
narrow  for  me  to  turn  and  I  was  compelled  to  dis- 
mount and  to  wheel  my  "Indian"  back  to  the  high- 
road. The  yellow  car  had  vanished,  of  course,  but 
I  took  it  for  granted  that  it  had  followed  the  main 
road.  At  a  dangerous  speed,  pursued  by  execrations 
from  the  sailor  and  all  his  friends,  I  set  off  east  once 
more  turning  to  the  right  down  West  India  Dock 
Road. 

Arriving  at  the  dock,  and  seeing  nothing  ahead 
•of  me  but  desolation  and  ships'  masts,  I  knew  that 
that  inebriated  pig  had  spoiled  everything!  I  could 
have  sat  down  upon  the  dirty  pavement  and  wept, 
so  mortified  was  It  For  if  Zara  el-Khali  had 
secured  the  envelope  I  had  missed  my  only  chance. 

However,  pardieu!  I  have  said  that  despair  is 
not  permitted  by  the  Bureau.  I  rode  home  to  my 
hotel,  deep  in  reflection.  Whether  the  girl  had  the 
envelope  or  not,  at  least  she  had  escaped  detection 
by  the  doctor ;  therefore  if  she  had  failed  she  would 
try  again.  I  could  sleep  in  peace  until  the  morrow. 

Of  the  following  day,  which  I  spent  as  I  had  spent 
the  preceding  one,  I  have  nothing  to  record.  At 
about  the  same  time  in  the  evening  the  yellow  car 
again  rolled  into  view,  and  on  this  occasion  I  devoted 
all  my  attention  to  the  dark-skinned  chauffeur,  upon 
whom  I  directed  my  glasses. 

As  the  girl  alighted  and  spoke  to  him  for  a 
moment,  he  raised  the  goggles  which  habitually  he 
wore  and  I  saw  his  face.  A  theory  which  I  had 


ISO  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

'formed  on  the  previous  night  proved  correct.  The 
chauffeur  was  the  Hindu,  Chunda  Lai!  As  Zara 
el-Khala  walked  up  the  steps  he  backed  the  car 
into  the  narrow  lane  and  I  watched  him  constantly. 
Yet,  watch  as  closely  as  I  might,  I  could  not  see 
where  he  concealed  himself  in  order  to  command  a 
view  of  the  road. 

On  this  occasion,  as  I  know,  Dr.  Stuart  was  at 
home.  Nevertheless  the  girl  stayed  for  close  upon 
half  an  hour,  and  I  began  to  wonder  if  some  new 
move  had  been  planned.  Suddenly  the  door  opened 
and  she  came  out. 

I  crept  through  the  bushes  to  my  bicycle  and 
wheeled  it  on  to  the  drive.  I  saw  the  car  start; 
but  Madame  Fortune  being  in  playful  mood,  my  own 
engine  refused  to  start  at  all,  and  when  ten  minutes 
later  I  at  last  aroused  a  spark  of  life  in  the  torpid 
machine  I  knew  that  pursuit  would  be  futile. 

Since  this  record  is  intended  for  the  guidance  of 
those  who  take  up  the  quest  of  "The  Scorpion" 
either  in  co-operation  with  myself  or,  in  the  event 
of  my  failure,  alone,  it  would  be  profitless  for  me  to 
record  my  disasters.  Very  well,  I  had  one  success. 
One  night  I  pursued  the  yellow  car  from  Dr.  Stuart's 
house  to  the  end  of  Limehouse  Causeway  without 
once  losing  sight  of  it. 

A  string  of  lorries  from  the  docks,  drawn  by  a 
traction  engine,  checked  me  at  the  corner  for  a  time, 
although  the  yellow  car  passed.  But  I  raced  furi- 
ously on  and  by  great  good  luck  overtook  it  near 


I  MEET  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE   151 

the  Dock  Station.  From  thence  onward  pursuing  a 
strangely  tortuous  route,  I  kept  it  in  sight  to  Can- 
ning Town,  when  it  turned  into  a  public  garage.  I 
followed — to  purchase  petrol. 

Chunda  Lai  was  talking  to  the  man  in  charge; 
he  had  not  yet  left  his  seat.  But  the  car  was  empty ! 

At  first  I  was  stupid  with  astonishment.  Par  la 
barbe  du  prophete!  I  was  astounded.  Then  I  saw 
that  I  had  really  made  a  great  discovery.  The  street 
into  which  I  had  injudiciously  followed  "Le 
Balafre"  lay  between  Limehouse  Causeway  and 
Ropemaker  Street,  and  it  was  at  no  great  distance 
from  this  point  that  I  had  lost  sight  of  the  yellow 
car.  In  that  street,  which  according  to  my  friend 
the  policeman  was  "nearly  all  Chinese,"  Zara  el- 
Khala  had  descended;  in  that  street  was  "The 
Scorpion's"  lairl 


CHAPTER  V 

CONCLUSION  OF  STATEMENT 

I  COME  now  to  the  conclusion  of  this  statement 
and  to  the  strange  occurrence  which  led  to  my 
proclaiming  myself.  The  fear  of  imminent 
assassination  which  first  had  prompted  me  to  record 
what  I  knew  of  "The  Scorpion"  had  left  me  since  I 
had  ceased  to  be  Charles  Malet.  And  that  the  dis- 
appearance of  "Le  Balafre"  had  been  accepted  by 
his  unknown  chief  as  evidence  of  his  success  in 
removing  me,  I  did  not  doubt.  Therefore  I  breathed 
more  freely  .  .  .  and  more  freely  still  when  my 
body  was  recovered! 

Yes,  my  body  was  recovered  from  Hanover  Hole ; 
I  read  of  it — a  very  short  paragraph,  but  it  is  the 
short  paragraphs  that  matter — in  my  morning  paper. 
I  knew  then  that  I  should  very  shortly  be  dead 
indeed — officially  dead.  I  had  counted  on  this  hap- 
pening before,  you  understand,  for  I  more  than 
ever  suspected  that  "The  Scorpion"  knew  me  to  be 
in  England  and  I  feared  that  he  would  "lie  low" 
as  the  English  say.  However,  since  a  fortunate 
thing  happens  better  late  than  never,  I  saw  in  this 
paragraph  two  things:  (i)  that  the  enemy  would 
cease  to  count  upon  Gaston  Max;  (2)  that  the 
Scotland  Yard  Commissioner  would  be  authorised  to 

152 


CONCLUSION  OF  STATEMENT       153 

open  Part  First  of  this  Statement  which  had  been 
lodged  at  his  office  two  days  after  I  landed  in 
England — the  portion  dealing  with  my  inquiries  in 
Paris  and  with  my  tracking  of  "Le  Balafre"  to 
Bow  Road  Station  and  observing  that  he  showed  a 
golden  scorpion  to  the  chauffeur  of  the  yellow  car. 

This  would  happen  because  Paris  would  wire  that 
the  identification  disk  found  on  the  dead  man  was 
that  of  Gaston  Max.  Why  would  Paris  do  so? 
Because  my  reports  had  been  discontinued  since  I 
had  ceased  to  be  Charles  Malet  and  Paris  would  be 
seeking  evidence  of  my  whereabouts.  My  reports 
had  discontinued  because  I  had  learned  that  I  had 
to  do  with  a  criminal  organization  of  whose  ramifi- 
cations I  knew  nothing.  Therefore  I  took  no  more 
chances.  I  died. 

I  return  to  the  night  when  Inspector  Dunbar,  the 
grim  Dunbar  of  Scotland  Yard,  came  to  Dr.  Stuart's 
house.  His  appearance  there  puzzled  me.  I  could 
not  fail  to  recognize  him,  for  as  dusk  had  fully  come 
I  had  descended  from  my  top  window  and  was 
posted  among  the  bushes  of  the  empty  house  from 
whence  I  commanded  a  perfect  view  of  the  doctor's 
door.  The  night  was  unusually  chilly — there  had 
been  some  rain — and  when  I  crept  around  to  the 
lane  bordering  the  lawn,  hoping  to  see  or  hear  some- 
thing of  what  was  taking  place  in  the  study,  I  found 
that  the  windows  were  closed  and  the  blinds  drawn. 

Luck  seemed  to  ha.ve  turned  against  me ;  for  that 
night,  at  dusk,  when  I  had  gone  to  a  local  garage 


154  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

where  I  kept  my  motor  bicycle,  I  had  discovered 
the  back  tire  to  be  perfectly  flat  and  had  been  forced 
to  contain  my  soul  in  patience  whilst  the  man  re- 
paired a  serious  puncture.  The  result  was  of  course 
that  for  more  than  half  an  hour  I  had  not  had 
Dr.  Stuart's  house  under  observation.  And  a  hun- 
dred and  one  things  can  happen  in  half  an  hour- 
Had  Dr.  Stuart  sent  for  the  Inspector?  If  so, 
I  feared  that  the  envelope  was  missing,  or  at  any 
rate  that  he  had  detected  Zara  el-Khala  in  the  act  of 
stealing  it  and  had  determined  to  place  the  matter 
in  the  hands  of  the  police.  It  was  a  maddening 
reflection.  Again — I  shrewdly  suspected  that  I  was 
not  the  only  watcher  of  Dr.  Stuart's  house.  The 
frequency  with  which  the  big  yellow  car  drew  up 
at  the  door  a  few  moments  after  the  doctor  had  gone 
out  could  not  be  due  to  accident.  Yet  I  had  been 
unable  to  detect  the  presence  of  this  other  watcher, 
nor  had  I  any  idea  of  the  spot  where  the  car  re- 
mained hidden — if  my  theory  was  a  correct  one. 
Nevertheless  I  did  not  expect  to  see  it  come  along 
whilst  the  Inspector  remained  at  the  house — always 
supposing  that  Zara  el-Khala  had  not  yet  succeeded. 
I  wheeled  out  the  "Indian"  and  rode  to  a  certain 
tobacconist's  shop  at  which  I  had  sometimes  pur- 
chased cigarettes. 

He  had  a  telephone  in  a  room  at  the  rear  which 
customers  were  allowed  to  use  on  payment  of  a  fee, 
and  a  public  call-box  would  not  serve  my  purpose, 
since  the  operator  usually  announces  to  a  subscriber 


CONCLUSION  OF  STATEMENT      155 

the  fact  that  a  call  emanates  from  such  an  office. 
The  shop  was  closed,  but  I  rang  the  bell  at  the  side 
door  and  obtained  permission  to  use  the  telephone 
upon  pleading  urgency.  I  had  assiduously  culti- 
vated a  natural  gift  for  mimicry,  having  found  it  of 
inestimable  service  in  the  practice  of  my  profession. 
It  served  me  now.  I  had  worked  in  the  past  with 
Inspector  Dunbar  and  his  subordinate  Sergeant 
Sowerby,  and  I  determined  to  trust  to  my  memory 
of  the  latter's  mode  of  speech. 

I  rang  up  Dr.  Stuart  and  asked  for  the  Inspector, 
saying  that  Sergeant  Sowerby  spoke  from  Scotland 
Yard.  "Hullo!"  he  cried,  "is  that  you,  Sowerby?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied  in  Sowerby's  voice.  "I  thought 
I  should  find  you  there.  About  the  body  of  Max  .  ." 

"Eh!"   said  Dunbar— "what's   that?    Max?" 

I  knew  immediately  that  Paris  had  not  yet  wired, 
therefore  I  told  him  that  Paris  had  done  so,  and  that 
the  disk  numbered  49685  was  that  of  Gaston  Max. 
He  was  inexpressibly  shocked,  deploring  the  rash- 
ness of  Max  in  working  alone. 

'Come  to  Scotland  Yard,"  I  said,  anxious  to  get 
him  away  from  the  house. 

He  said  he  would  be  with  me  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  I  was  racking  my  brains  for  some  means  of 
learning  what  business  had  taken  him  to  Dr.  Stuart 
when  he  gave  me  the  desired  information  spon- 
taneously. 

"Sowerby,  listen,"  said  he:  "It's  The  Scorpion' 
case  right  enough!  That  bit  of  gold  found  on  the 


156  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

dead  man  is  not  a  cactus  stem;  it's  a  scorpion's 
tail!" 

So!  they  had  found  what  I  had  failed  to  find! 
It  must  have  been  attached,  I  concluded,  to  some 
inner  part  of  "Le  Balafre's"  clothing.  There  had 
been  no  mention  of  Zara  el-Khala;  therefore,  as  I 
rode  back  to  my  post  I  permitted  myself  to  assume 
that  she  would  come  again,  since  presumably  she 
had  thus  far  failed.  I  was  right. 

Morbleu!  quick  as  I  was  the  car  was  there  before 
me !  But  I  had  not  overlooked  this  possibility  and 
I  had  dismounted  at  a  good  distance  from  the  house 
and  had  left  the  "Indian"  in  someone's  front  garden. 
As  I  had  turned  out  of  the  main  road  I  had  seen  Dr. 
Stuart  and  Inspector  Dunbar  approaching  a  rank 
upon  which  two  or  three  cabs  usually  stood. 

I  watched  la  Belle  Zara  enter  the  house,  a  beautiful 
woman  most  elegantly  attired,  and  then,  even  be- 
fore Chunda  Lai  had  backed  the  car  into  the  lane  I 
was  off  ...  to  the  spot  at  which  I  had  abandoned 
my  motor  bicycle.  In  little  more  than  half  an  hour 
I  had  traversed  London,  and  was  standing  in  the 
shadow  of  that  high,  blank  wall  to  which  I  have 
referred  as  facing  a  row  of  wooden  houses  in  a 
certain  street  adjoining  Limehouse  Causeway. 

You  perceive  my  plan?  I  was  practically  sure 
of  the  street;  all  I  had  to  learn  was  which  house 
sheltered  "The  Scorpion"! 

I  had  already  suspected  that  this  night  was  to 
be  for  me  an  unlucky  night.  Nom  d'un  p'tit  bon- 


CONCLUSION  OF  STATEMENT       157 

homme!  it  was  so.  Until  an  hour  before  dawn  I 
crouched  under  that  wall  and  saw  no  living  thing 
except  a  very  old  Chinaman  who  came  out  of  one 
of  the  houses  and  walked  slowly  away.  The  other 
houses  appeared  to  be  empty.  No  vehicle  of  any 
kind  passed  that  way  all  night. 

Turning  over  in  my  mind  the  details  of  this  most 
perplexing  case,  it  became  evident  to  me  that  the 
advantages  of  working  alone  were  now  outweighed 
by  the  disadvantages.  The  affair  had  reached  a 
stage  at  which  ordinary  police  methods  should  be 
put  into  operation.  I  had  collected  some  of  the 
threads;  the  next  thing  was  for  Scotland  Yard  to 
weave  these  together  whilst  I  sought  for  more. 

I  determined  to  remain  dead.  It  would  afford  me 
greater  freedom  of  action.  The  disappearance  of 
"Le  Balafre"  which  must  by  this  time  have  been 
noted  by  his  associates,  might  possibly  lead  to  a 
suspicion  that  the  dead  man  was  not  Gaston  Max ; 
but  providing  no  member  of  "The  Scorpion"  group 
obtained  access  to  the  body  I  failed  to  see  how  this 
suspicion  could  be  confirmed.  I  reviewed  my  posi- 
tion. 

The  sealed  letter  had  achieved  its  purpose  in  part. 
Although  I  had  failed  to  locate  the  house  from  which 
these  people  operated,  I  could  draw  a  circle  on  the 
map  within  which  I  knew  it  to  be  ;  and  I  had  learned 
that  Zara  el-Khala  and  the  Hindu  were  in  London. 
What  it  all  meant — to  what  end  "The  Scorpion"  was 
working  I  did  not  know.  But  having  learned  so 


158  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

much,  be  sure  I  did  not  despair  of  learning  more. 

It  was  now  imperative  that  I  should  get  in  touch 
with  Dunbar  and  that  I  should  find  out  exactly 
what  had  occurred  at  Dr.  Stuart's  house.  Accord- 
ingly I  determined  to  call  upon  the  Inspector  at 
Scotland  Yard.  I  presented  myself  towards  evening 
of  the  day  following  my  vigil  in  Limehouse,  sending 
up  the  card  of  a  Bureau  confrere,  for  I  did  not 
intend  to  let  it  be  generally  known  that  I  was  alive. 

Presently  I  was  shown  up  to  that  bare  and  shining 
room  which  I  remembered  having  visited  in  the 
past.  I  stood  just  within  the  doorway,  smiling. 
Inspector  Dunbar  rose,  as  the  constable  went  out, 
and  stood  looking  across  at  me. 

I  had  counted  on  striking  him  dumb  with  aston- 
ishment. He  was  Scottishly  unmoved. 

"Well,"  he  said,  coming  forward  with  outstretched 
hand,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I  knew  you  would  have 
to  come  to  us  sooner  or  later !" 

I  felt  that  my  eyes  sparkled.  There  was  no  resent- 
ment within  my  heart.  I  rejoiced. 

"Look,"  he  continued,  taking  a  slip  of  papef 
from  his  note-book.  "This  is  a  copy  of  a  note  I 
left  with  Dr.  Stuart  some  time  ago.  Read  it." 

I  did  so,  and  this  is  what  I  read: 

"A  :  the  name  of  the  man  who  cut  out  the  lid 
of  the  cardboard  box  and  sealed  it  in  an  envelope — 
Gaston  Max! 

"B :  the  name  of  the  missing  cabman — Gaston 
Max! 


CONCLUSION  OF  STATEMENT       159 

"C:  The  name  of  the  man  who  rang  me  up  at 
Dr.  Stuart's  and  told  me  that  Gaston  Max  was  dead 
— Gaston  Max !" 

I  returned  the  slip  to  Inspector  Dunbar.  I  bowed. 

"It  is  a  pleasure  and  a  privilege  to  work  with  you, 
Inspector.,"  I  said.  .  .  . 

This  statement  is  nearly  concluded.  The  whole  of 
the  evening  I  spent  in  the  room  of  the  Assistant 
Commissioner  discussing  the  matters  herein  set  forth 
and  comparing  notes  with  Inspector  Dunbar.  One 
important  thing  I  learned :  that  I  had  abandoned  my 
nightly  watches  too  early.  For  one  morning  just 
before  dawn  someone  who  was  not  Zara  had  paid  a 
visit  to  the  house  of  Dr.  Stuart!  I  determined  to 
call  upon  the  doctor. 

As  it  chanced  I  was  delayed  and  did  not  actually 
arrive  until  so  late  an  hour  that  I  had  almost  decided 
not  to  present  myself  .  .  .  when  a  big  yellow  car 
flashed  past  the  taxicab  in  which  I  was  driving! 

Nom  d'un  nom!  I  could  not  mistake  it!  This 
was  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  house  of  Dr. 
Stuart,  you  understand,  and  I  instantly  dismissed 
my  cabman  and  proceeded  to  advance  cautiously  on 
foot.  I  could  no  longer  hear  the  engine  of  the  car 
which  had  passed  ahead  of  me,  but  then  I  knew  that 
it  could  run  almost  noiselessly.  As  I  crept  along 
in  that  friendly  shadow  cast  by  a  high  hedge  which 
had  served  me  so  well  before,  I  saw  the  yellow  car. 
It  was  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road. 

I  reached  the  tradesmen's  entrance. 


160  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

From  my  left,  in  the  direction  of  the  back  lawn  of 
the  house,  came  a  sudden  singular  crackling  noise 
and  I  discerned  a  flash  of  blue  flame  resembling 
faint  "summer  lightning."  A  series  of  muffled  ex- 
plosions followed  .  .  .  and  in  the  darkness  I  tripped 
over  something  which  lay  along  the  ground  at  my 
feet — a  length  of  cable  it  seemed  to  be. 

Stumbling,  I  uttered  a  slight  exclamation  .  .  .  and 
instantly  received  a  blow  on  the  head  that  knocked 
me  flat  upon  the  ground !  Everything  was  swimming 
around  me,  but  I  realized  that  someone — Chunda 
Lai  probably — had  been  hiding  in  the  very  passage 
which  I  had  entered!  I  heard  again  that  uncanny 
wailing,  close  beside  me. 

Vaguely  I  discerned  an  incredible  figure — like 
that  of  a  tall  cowled  monk,  towering  over  me.  I 
struggled  to  retain  consciousness — there  was  a  rush 
of  feet . . .  the  throb  of  a  motor.  It  stimulated  me — 
that  sound !  I  must  get  to  the  telephone  and  cause 
the  yellow  car  to  be  intercepted. 

I  staggered  to  my  feet  and  groped  my  way  along 
the  hedge  to  where  I  had  observed  a  tree  by  means 
of  which  one  might  climb  over.  I  was  dizzy  as  a 
drunken  man;  but  I  half  climbed  and  half  fell  on 
to  the  lawn.  The  windows  were  open.  I  rushed  into 
the  study  of  Dr.  Stuart. 

Pah !  it  was  full  of  fumes.  I  looked  around  me. 
Mon  Dieu!  I  staggered.  For  I  knew  that  in  this 
fume-laden  room  a  thing  more  horrible  and  more 
strange  than  any  within  my  experience  had  taken 
place  that  night. 


PART    III 
AT  THE  HOUSE  OF  AH-FANG-FU 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  BRAIN   THIEVES 

THE  Assistant  Commissioner  lighted  a  ciga- 
rette. "It  would  appear,  then,"  he  said,  "that 
whilst  some  minor  difficulties  have  been 
smoothed  away,  we  remain  face  to  face  with  the 
major  problem :  who  is  The  Scorpion'  and  to  what 
end  are  his  activities  directed  ?" 

Gaston  Max  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled 
at  Dr.  Stuart. 

"Let  us  see,"  he  suggested,  "what  we  really  know 
about  this  'Scorpion.'  Let  us  make  a  brief  survey 
of  our  position  in  the  matter.  Let  us  take  first  what 
we  have  learned  of  him — if  it  is  a  'him'  with  whom 
we  have  to  deal — from  the  strange  experiences  of 
Dr.  Stuart.  Without  attaching  too  much  importance 
to  that  episode  five  years  ago  on  the  Wu-Men  Bridge 
in  China,  we  should  remember,  I  think,  that  for  any 
man  to  be  known  and,  it  would  appear,  to  be  feared, 
as  'The  Scorpion,'  is  remarkable.  Very  well.  Per- 
haps the  one  we  seek  is  the  man  of  the  Wu-Men 
Bridge ;  perhaps  he  is  not.  We  will  talk  about  this 
one  again  presently. 

"We  come  to  the  arrival  on  the  scene  of  Zara 
el-Khala,  also  called  Mile.  Dorian.  She  comes  be- 
cause of  what  /  have  told  to  the  scarred  man  from 

163 


164  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Paris,  she  comes  to  obtain  that  dangerous  informa- 
tion which  is  to  be  sent  to  Scotland  Yard,  she  comes, 
in  a  word,  from  'The  Scorpion.'  We  have  two  links 
binding  the  poor  one  'Le  Balaf  re'  to  'The  Scorpion' : 
( I )  his  intimacy  with  Miguel  and  those  others  with 
whom  'Scorpion'  communicated  by  telephone;  (2) 
his  possession  of  the  golden  ornament  which  lies 
there  upon  the  table  and  which  I  took  from  his 
pocket.  What  can  we  gather  from  the  statement 
made  to  Dr.  Stuart  by  Mile.  Dorian  ?  Let  us  study 
this  point  for  a  moment. 

"In  the  first  place  we  can  only  accept  her  words 
with  a  certain  scepticism.  Her  story  may  be  nothing 
but  a  fabrication.  However,  it  is  interesting  because 
she  claims  to  be  the  unwilling  servant  of  a  dreaded 
master.  She  lays  stress  upon  the  fact  that  she  is  an 
Oriental  and  does  not  enjoy  the  same  freedom  as  a 
European  woman.  This  is  possible,  up  to  a  point. 
On  the  other  hand  she  seems  to  enjoy  not  only  free- 
dom but  every  luxury.  Therefore  it  may  equally 
well  be  a  lie.  Some  slight  colour  is  lent  to  her  story 
by  the  extraordinary  mode  of  life  which  she  fol- 
lowed in  Paris.  In  the  midst  of  Bohemianism  she 
remained  secluded  as  an  odalisque  in  some  harem 
garden  of  Stambul,  whether  by  her  own  will  or  by 
will  of  another  we  do  not  know.  One  little  point 
her  existence  seems  to  strengthen :  that  we  are  deal- 
ing with  Easterns;  for  Zara  el-Khala  is  partly  of 
Eastern  blood  and  her  follower  Chunda  Lai  is  a 
Hindu.  Eh  bien. 


THE  BRAIN  THIEVES  165 

"Consider  the  cowled  man  whose  shadow  Dr. 
Stuart  has  seen  on  two  occasions :  once  behind  the 
curtain  of  his  window  and  once  cast  by  the  moon- 
light across  the  lawn  of  his  house.  The  man  himself 
he  has  never  seen.  Now  this  hooded  man  cannot 
have  been  'Le  Balafre,'  for  'Le  Balafre'  was  already 
dead  at  the  time  of  his  first  appearance.  He  may  be 
The  Scorpion'!" 

Max  paused  impressively,  looking  around  at  those 
in  the  Commissioner's  room. 

"For  a  moment  I  return  to  the  man  of  the  Wu- 
Men  Bridge.  The  man  of  the  Wu-Men  Bridge  was 
veiled  and  this  one  is  hooded!  The  man  of  the 
Wu-Men  Bridge  was  known  as  'The  Scorpion,'  and 
this  one  also  is  associated  with  a  scorpion.  We  will 
return  yet  again  to  this  point  in  a  moment. 

"Is  there  something  else  which  we  may  learn 
from  the  experiences  of  Dr.  Stuart?  Yes !  We  learn 
that  'The  Scorpion'  suddenly  decides  that  Dr.  Stuart 
is  dangerous,  either  because  of  his  special  knowledge 
(which  would  be  interesting)  or  because  the  'Scor- 
pion' believes  that  he  has  become  acquainted  with 
the  contents  of  the  sealed  envelope — which  is  not  so 
interesting  although  equally  dangerous  for  Dr. 
Stuart.  'The  Scorpion'  acts.  He  pays  a  second 
visit,  again  accompanied  by  Chunda  Lai,  who  seems 
to  be  a  kind  of  watch-dog  who  not  only  guards  the 
person  of  Zara  el-Khala  but  who  also  howls  when 
danger  threatens  the  cowled  man! 

"And  what  is  the  weapon  which  the  cowled  man 


166  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

(who  may  be  'The  Scorpion')  uses  to  remove  Dr. 
Stuart?  It  is  a  frightful  weapon,  my  friends;  it 
is  a  novel  and  deadly  weapon.  It  is  a  weapon  of 
which  science  knows  nothing — a  blue  ray  of  the 
colour  produced  by  a  Mercury  Vapour  Lamp,  ac- 
cording to  Dr.  Stuart  who  has  seen  it,  and  producing 
an  odour  like  that  of  a  blast  furnace  according  to 
myself,  who  smelled  it!  Or  this  odour  might  have 
been  caused  by  the  fusing  of  the  telephone ;  for  the 
blue  ray  destroys  such  fragile  things  as  telephones 
as  easily  as  it  destroys  wood  and  paper!  There  is 
even  a  large  round  hole  burned  through  the  clay  at 
the  back  of  the  study  grate  and  through  the  brick 
wall  behind  it!  Very  well.  'The  Scorpion'  is  a 
scientist  and  he  is  also  the  greatest  menace  to  the 
world  which  the  world  has  ever  been  called  upon  to 
deal  with.  You  agree  with  me?" 

Inspector  Dunbar  heaved  a  great  sigh,  Stuart 
silently  accepted  a  cigarette  from  the  Assistant 
Commissioner's  box  and  the  Assistant  Commissioner 
spoke,  slowly. 

"I  entirely  agree  with  you,  M.  Max.  Respecting 
this  ray,  as  well  as  some  one  or  two  other  minutiae, 
I  have  made  a  short  note  which  we  will  discuss  when 
you  have  completed  your  admirably  lucid  survey  of 
the  case." 

Gaston  Max  bowed,  and  resumed. 

"These  are  the  things,  then,  which  we  learn  from 
the  terrible  experiences  of  Dr.  Stuart.  Placing  these 
experiences  side  by  side  with  my  own,  in  Paris  and 


THE  BRAIN  THIEVES  167 

in  London — which  we  have  already  discussed  in 
detail — we  find  that  we  have  to  deal  with  an  organi- 
sation— the  object  of  which  is  unknown — compris- 
ing among  its  members  both  Europeans  ('Le 
Balafre'  was  a  Frenchman,  I  believe),  cross-breeds 
such  as  Miguel  and  Zara  el-Khala"  (Stuart  winced), 
"one  Algerian  and  a  Hindu.  It  is  then  an  organisa- 
tion having  ramifications  throughout  Europe,  the 
East  and,  mon  Dieu!  where  not?  To  continue.  This 
little  image" — he  took  up  from  the  Commissioner's 
table  the  golden  scorpion,  and  the  broken  fragment 
of  tail — "is  now  definitely  recognized  by  Dr.  Stuart 
— who  is  familiar  with  the  work  of  Oriental  gold- 
smiths— to  be  of  Chinese  craftsmanship !" 

"It  may  possibly  be  Tibetan,"  interrupted  Stuart ; 
"but  it  comes  to  the  same  thing." 

"Very  well,"  continued  Max.  "It  is  Chinese.  We 
hope,  very  shortly,  to  identify  a  house  situated 
somewhere  within  this  red  ink  circle" — he  placed  his 
ringer  on  a  map  of  London  which  lay  open  on  the 
table — "and  which  I  know  to  be  used  as  a  meeting- 
place  by  members  of  this  mysterious  group.  That 
circle,  my  friends,  surrounds  what  is  now  known  as 
'Chinatown'!  For  the  third  time  I  return  to  the 
man  of  the  Wu-Men  Bridge;  for  the  man  of  the 
Wu-Men  Bridge  was,  apparently,  a  Chinaman!  Do 
I  make  myself  clear?" 

"Remarkably  so,"  declared  the  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner, taking  a  fresh  cigarette.  "Pray  continue, 
M.  Max." 


i68  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"I  will  do  so.  One  of  my  most  important  investi- 
gations, in  which  I  had  the  honour  and  the  pleasure 
to  be  associated  with  Inspector  Dunbar,  led  to  the 
discovery  of  a  dangerous  group  controlled  by  a 
certain  'Mr  King' " 

"Ah!"  cried  Dunbar,  his  tawny  eyes  sparkling 
with  excitement,  "I  was  waiting  for  that!" 

"I  knew  you  would  be  waiting  for  it,  Inspector. 
Your  powers  of  deductive  reasoning  more  and  more 
are  earning  my  respect.  You  recall  that  singular 
case?  The  elaborate  network  extending  from  Lon- 
don to  Buenos  Ayres,  from  Peking  to  Petrograd? 
Ah !  a  wonderful  system.  It  was  an  opium  syndicate, 
you  understand," — turning  again  to  the  Assistant 
Commissioner. 

"I  recall  the  case,"  replied  the  Commissioner, 
"although  I  did  not  hold  my  present  appointment  at 
the  time.  I  believe  there  were  unsatisfactory 
features  ?" 

"There  were,"  agreed  Max.  "We  never  solved 
the  mystery  of  the  identity  of  'Mr.  King,'  and  al- 
though we  succeeded  in  destroying  the  enterprise  I 
have  since  thought  that  we  acted  with  undue  pre- 
cipitation." 

"Yes,"  said  Dunbar  rapidly ;  "but  there  was  that 
poor  girl  to  be  rescued,  you  will  remember?  We 
couldn't  waste  time." 

"I  agree  entirely,  Inspector.  Our  hands  were 
forced.  Yet,  I  repeat,  I  have  since  thought  that  we 
acted  with  undue  precipitation.  I  will  tell  you  why. 


THE  BRAIN  THIEVES  i6$T 

Do  you  recall  the  loss — not  explained  to  this  day—- 
of the  plans  of  the  Haley  torpedo?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  the  Commissioner ;  and  Dun- 
bar  also  nodded  affirmatively. 

"Very  well.  A  similar  national  loss  was  sustained 
about  the  same  time  by  my  own  Government.  I 
am  not  at  liberty  to  divulge  its  exact  nature,  as  in 
the  latter  case  the  loss  never  became  known  to  the 
public.  But  the  only  member  of  the  French  Chamber 
who  had  seen  this  document  to  which  I  refer  was  a 
certain  'M.  Blank/  shall  we  say?  I  believe  also 
that  I  am  correct  in  stating  that  the  late  Sir  Brian 
Malpas  was  a  member  of  the  British  Cabinet  at  the 
time  that  the  Haley  plans  were  lost?" 

"That  is  correct,"  said  the  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner, "but  surely  the  honour  of  the  late  Sir  Brian 
was  above  suspicion?" 

"Quite,"  agreed  Max;  "so  also  was  that  of  'M. 
Blank.'  But  my  point  is  this :  Both  'M.  Blank'  and 
the  late  Sir  Brian  were  clients  of  the  opium  syn- 
dicate !" 

Dunbar  nodded  again  eagerly. 

"Hard  work  I  had  to  hush  it  up,"  he  said.  "It 
would  have  finished  his  political  career." 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  looked  politely 
puzzled. 

"It  was  generally  supposed  that  Sir  Brian  Malpas 
was  addicted  to  drugs,"  he  remarked ;  "and  I  am  not 
surprised  to  learn  that  he  patronised  this  syndicate 
to  which  you  refer.  But "  he  paused,  smiling 


i;o  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

satanically.     "Ah!"   he   added— "I    see!     I    see!" 

"You  perceive  the  drift  of  my  argument?"  cried 
Max.  "You  grasp  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that 
we  were  too  hasty?  This  syndicate  existed  for  a 
more  terrible  purpose  than  the  promulgating  of  a 
Chinese  vice;  it  had  in  its  clutches  men  entrusted 
with  national  secrets,  men  of  genius  but  slaves  of  a 
horrible  drug.  Under  the  influence  of  that  drug, 
my  friends,  how  many  of  those  secrets  may  they 
not  have  divulged  ?" 

His  words  were  received  in  hushed  silence. 

"What  became  of  those  stolen  plans?"  he  con- 
tinued, speaking  now  in  a  very  low  voice.  "In  the 
stress  of  recent  years  has  the  Haley  torpedo  made  its 
appearance  so  that  we  might  learn  to  which  Govern- 
ment the  plans  had  been  taken  ?  No !  the  same  mys- 
tery surrounds  the  fate  of  the  information  filched 
from  the  drugged  brain  of  'M.  Blank.'  In  a  word" 
— he  raised  a  finger  dramatically — "someone  is 
hoarding  up  those  instruments  of  destruction !  Who 
is  it  that  collects  such  things  and  for  what  purpose 
does  he  collect  them?" 

Following  another  tense  moment  of  silence: 

"Let  us  have  your  own  theory,  M.  Max,"  said 
the  Assistant  Commissioner. 

Gaston  Max  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  not  worthy  of  the  name  of  a  theory,"  he 
replied,  "the  surmise  which  I  have  made.  But 
recently  I  found  myself  considering  the  fact  that 
'The  Scorpion'  might  just  conceivably  be  a  China- 


THE  BRAIN  THIEVES  171 

man.  Now,  'Mr.  King,'  we  believe,  was  a  Chinaman, 
and  'Mr.  King/  as  I  am  now  convinced,  operated 
not  for  a  personal  but  for  a  deeper,  political  purpose. 
He  stole  the  brains  of  genius  and  accumulated  that 
which  he  had  stolen.  'The  Scorpion'  destroys 
genius.  Is  it  not  possible  that  these  contrary  opera- 
tions may  be  part  of  a  common  plan?" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  RED  CIRCLE 


*"W  7"  OU  are  not  by  any  chance,"  suggested  Stuart^ 

I      smiling    slightly,    "hinting    at    that    defunct 

-*-    bogey,  the  'Yellow  Peril'?" 

"Ah!"  cried  Max,  "but  certainly  I  am  not!  Do 
not  misunderstand  me.  This  group  with  which  we 
are  dealing  is  shown  to  be  not  of  a  national  but  of  an 
international  character.  The  same  applied  to  the 
organisation  of  'Mr.  King.'  But  a  Chinaman  directed 
the  one,  and  I  begin  to  suspect  that  a  Chinaman  di- 
rects the  other.  No,  I  speak  of  no  ridiculous  'Yellow 
Peril,'  my  friends.  John  Chinaman,  as  I  have  known 
him,  is  the  whitest  man  breathing ;  but  can  you  not 
imagine" — he  dropped  his  voice  again  in  that  im- 
pressive way  which  was  yet  so  truly  Gallic — "can 
you  not  imagine  a  kind  of  Oriental  society  which 
like  a  great,  a  formidable  serpent,  lies  hidden  some- 
where below  that  deceptive  jungle  of  the  East? 
These  are  troubled  times.  It  is  a  wise  state  to-day 
that  knows  its  own  leaders.  Can  you  not  imagine 
a  dreadful  sudden  menace,  not  of  men  and  guns  but 
of  brains  and  capital?" 

"You  mean,"  said  Dunbar  slowly,  "that  'The 
Scorpion'  may  be  getting  people  out  of  the  way  whc 

172 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  173 

might  interfere  with  this  rising  or  invasion  or  what- 
ever it  is?" 

"Just  as  'Mr.  King'  accumulated  material  for  it," 
interjected  the  Assistant  Commissioner.  "It  is  a 
bold  conception,  M.  Max,  and  it  raises  the  case  out 
of  the  ordinary  category  and  invests  it  with  enor- 
mous international  importance." 

All  were  silent  for  a  time,  Stuart,  Dunbar  and 
the  Commissioner  watching  the  famous  Frenchman 
as  he  sat  there,  arrayed  in  the  latest  fashion  of  Savile 
Row,  yet  Gallic  to  his  finger-tips  and  in  every  ges- 
ture. It  was  almost  impossible  at  times  to  credit 
the  fact  that  a  Parisian  was  speaking,  for  the 
English  of  Gaston  Max  was  flawless  except  that  he 
spoke  with  a  faint  American  accent.  Then,  sud- 
denly, a  gesture,  an  expletive,  would  betray  the 
Frenchman. 

But  such  betrayals  never  escaped  him  when,  in 
one  of  his  inimitable  disguises,  he  penetrated  to  the 
purlieus  of  Whitechapel,  to  the  dens  of  Limehouse. 
Then  he  was  the  perfect  Hooligan,  as,  mingling  with 
the  dangerous  thieves  of  Paris,  he  was  the  perfect 
Apache.  It  was  an  innate  gift  of  mimicry  which  had 
made  him  the  greatest  investigator  of  his  day.  He 
could  have  studied  Chinese  social  life  for  six  months 
and  thereupon  have  become  a  mandarin  whom  his 
Dwn  servants  would  never  have  suspected  to  be  a 
"'foreign  barbarian."  It  was  pure  genius,  as  opposed 
to  the  brilliant  efficiency  of  Dunbar. 

But  in  the  heart  of  the  latter,  as  he  studied  Gaston 


174  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Max  and  realized  the  gulf  that  separated  them,  there 
was  nothing  but  generous  admiration  of  a  master; 
yet  Dunbar  was  no  novice,  for  by  a  process  of  fine 
deductive  reasoning  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion, 
as  has  appeared,  that  Gaston  Max  had  been  mas- 
querading as  a  cabman  and  that  the  sealed  letter 
left  with  Dr.  Stuart  had  been  left  as  a  lure.  By  one 
of  those  tricks  of  fate  which  sometimes  perfect  the 
plans  of  men  but  more  often  destroy  them,  the  body 
of  "Le  Balafre"  had  been  so  disfigured  during  the 
time  that  it  had  been  buffeted  about  in  the  Thames 
that  it  was  utterly  unrecognizable  and  indescribable. 
But  even  the  disk  had  not  deceived  Dunbar.  He 
had  seen  in  it  another  ruse  of  his  brilliant  confrere, 
and  his  orders  to  the  keeper  of  the  mortuary  to  ad- 
mit no  one  without  a  written  permit  had  been  dic- 
tated by  the  conviction  that  Max  wished  the  body  to 
be  mistaken  for  his  own.  In  Inspector  Dunbar,  Gas- 
ton  Max  immediately  had  recognized  an  able  col- 
league as  Mrs.  M'Gregor  had  recognized  "a  grand 
figure  of  a  man." 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  broke  the  silence. 

"There  have  been  other  cases,"  he  said  reflectively, 
"now  that  one  considers  the  matter,  which  seemed  to 
point  to  the  existence  of  such  a  group  or  society  as 
you  indicate,  M.  Max,  notably  one  with  which,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  Inspector" — turning  his  dark 
eyes  towards  Dunbar — "Inspector  Weymouth,  late 
of  this  Branch,  was  associated?" 

"Quite  right,  sir.   It  was  his  big  case,  and  it  got 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  175 

him  a  fine  billet  as  Superintendent  in  Cairo  if  you 
remember?" 

"Yes,"  mused  the  Assistant  Commissioner — "he 
transferred  to  Egypt — a  very  good  appointment,  as 
you  say.  That,  again,  was  before  my  term  of  office, 
but  there  were  a  number  of  very  ghastly  crimes 
connected  with  the  case  and  it  was  more  or  less 
definitely  established,  I  believe,  that  some  extensive 
secret  society  did  actually  exist  throughout  the 
East,  governed,  I  fancy,  by  a  Chinaman." 

"And  from  China,"  added  Dunbar. 

"Yes,  yes,  from  China  as  you  say,  Inspector." 
He  turned  to  Gaston  Max.  "Can  it  really  be,  M. 
Max,  that  we  have  to  deal  with  an  upcrop  of  some 
deeply-seated  evil  which  resides  in  the  Far  East? 
Are  all  these  cases,  not  the  work  of  individual  crim- 
inals but  manifestations  of  a  more  sinister,  a  darker 
force?" 

Gaston  Max  met  his  glance  and  Max's  mouth 
grew  very  grim. 

"I  honestly  believe  so,"  he  answered.  "I  have 
believed  it  for  nearly  two  years — ever  since  the 
Grand  Duke  died.  And  now,  you  said,  I  remember, 
that  you  had  made  a  note  the  nature  of  which  you 
would  communicate." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Assistant  Commissioner — "a 
small  point,  but  one  which  may  be  worthy  of  atten- 
tion. This  ray,  Dr.  Stuart,  which  played  such  havoc 
in  your  study — do  you  know  of  anything  approach- 
ing to  it  in  more  recent  scientific  devices  ?" 


176  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Well,"  said  Stuart,  "it  may  be  no  more  than 
a  development  of  one  of  several  systems,  notably  of 
that  of  the  late  Henrik  Ericksen  upon  which  he  was 
at  work  at  the  time  of  his  death." 

"Exactly."  The  Assistant  Commissioner  smiled 
in  his  most  Mephistophelean  manner.  "Of  the  late 
Henrik  Ericksen,  as  you  say." 

He  said  no  more  for  a  moment  and  sat  smoking 
and  looking  from  face  to  face.  Then : 

"That  is  the  subject  of  my  note,  gentlemen,"  he 
added.  "The  other  minutiae  are  of  no  immediate 
importance." 

"Now,  d'un  p'tit  bonhomme!"  whispered  Gaston 
Max.  "I  see!  You  think  that  Ericksen  had  com- 
pleted his  experiments  before  he  died,  but  that  he 
never  lived  to  give  them  to  the  world?" 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  waved  one  hand  in 
the  air  so  that  the  discoloration  of  the  first  and 
second  fingers  was  very  noticeable. 

"It  is  for  you  to  ascertain  these  points,  M.  Max," 
he  said — "I  only  suggest.  But  I  begin  to  share  your 
belief  that  a  series  of  daring  and  unusual  assassina- 
tions has  been  taking  place  under  the  eyes  of  the 
police  authorities  of  Europe.  It  can  only  be  poison 
— an  unknown  poison,  perhaps.  We  shall  be  em- 
powered to  exhume  the  body  of  the  late  Sir  Frank 
Narcombe  in  a  few  days'  time,  I  hope.  His  case 
puzzles  me  hopelessly.  What  obstacle  did  a  surgeon 
offer  to  this  hypothetical  Eastern  movement?  On 
the  other  hand,  what  can  have  been  filched  from 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  177 

him  before  his  death?  The  death  of  an  inventor, 
a  statesman,  a  soldier,  can  be  variously  explained 
by  your  'Yellow'  hypothesis,  M.  Max,  but  what  of 
the  death  of  a  surgeon?" 

Gaston  Max  shrugged,  and  his  mobile  mouth 
softened  in  a  quaint  smile. 

"We  have  learned  a  little,"  he  said,  "and  guessed 
a  lot.  Let  us  hope  to  guess  more — and  learn  every- 
thing!" 

"May  I  suggest,"  added  Dunbar,  "that  we  hear 
Sowerby 's  report,  sir?" 

"Certainly,"  agreed  the  Assistant  Commissioner 
— "call  Sergeant  Sowerby." 

A  moment  later  Sergeant  Sowerby  entered,  his 
face  very  red  and  his  hair  bristling  more  persistently 
than  usual. 

"Anything  to  report,  Sowerby?"  asked  Dunbar. 

"Yes,  Inspector,"  replied  Sowerby,  in  his  Police 
Court  manner; — he  faced  the  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner, "with  your  permission,  sir." 

He  took  out  a  note-book  which  appeared  to  be  the 
twin  of  Dunbar 's  and  consulted  it,  assuming  an  ex- 
pression of  profound  reflection. 

"In  the  first  place,  sir,"  he  began,  never  raising 
his  eyes  from  the  page,  "I  have  traced  the  cab  sold 
on  the  hire-purchase  system  to  a  certain  Charles 
Mallet  .  .  ." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Max  breezily — "he  calls  me 
a  hammer!  It  is  not  Mallet,  Sergeant  Sowerby— 
you  have  got  too  many  /'s  in  that  name ;  it  is  Malet 


178  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

and  is  called  like  one  from  the  Malay  States!" 

"Oh,"  commented  Sowerby,  glancing  up — "in- 
deed. Very  good,  sir.  The  owner  claims  the  bal- 
ance of  purchase  money!" 

Every  one  laughed  at  that,  even  the  satanic  Assis- 
tant Commissioner. 

"Pay  your  debts,  M.  Max,"  he  said.  "You  will 
bring  the  Service  de  Surete  into  bad  repute !  Carry 
on,  Sergeant." 

"This  cab,"  continued  Sowerby,  when  Dunbar 
interrupted  him. 

"Cut  out  the  part  about  the  cab,  Sowerby,"  he 
said.  "We've  found  that  out  from  M.  Max.  Have 
you  anything  to  report  about  the  yellow  car  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Sowerby,  unperturbed,  and  turn- 
ing over  to  the  next  page.  "It  was  hired  from 
Messrs.  Wickers'  garage,  at  Canning  Town,  by  the 
week.  The  lady  who  hired  it  was  a  Miss  Dorian,  a 
French  lady.  She  gave  no  reference,  except  that  of 
the  Savoy  Hotel,  where  she  was  stopping.  She  paid 
a  big  deposit  and  had  her  own  chauffeur,  a  colored 
man  of  some  kind. 

"Is  it  still  in  use  by  her?"  snapped  Dunbar 
eagerly. 

"No,  Inspector.  She  claimed  her  deposit  this  morn- 
ing and  said  she  was  leaving  London." 

"The  cheque?"  cried  Dunbar. 

"Was  cashed  half  an  hour  later." 

"At  what  bank?" 

"London  County  &  Birmingham,  Canning  Town. 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  179 

Her  own  account  at  a  Strand  bank  was  closed 
yesterday.  The  details  all  concern  milliners,  jewel- 
lers, hotels  and  so  forth.  There's  nothing  there. 
I've  been  to  the  Savoy,  of  course." 

"Yes!" 

"A  lady  named  Dorian  has  had  rooms  there  for 
six  weeks,  has  dined  there  on  several  occasions, 
but  was  more  often  away  than  in  the  hotel." 

"Visitors?" 

"Never  had  any." 

"She  used  to  dine  alone,  then  ?" 

"Always." 

"In  the  public  dining-room?" 

"No.   In  her  own  room." 

"Morbleu!"  muttered  Max.  "It  is  she  beyond 
doubt.  I  recognize  her  sociable  habits!" 

"Has  she  left  now?"  asked  Dunbar. 

"She  left  a  week  ago." 

Sowerby  closed  his  note-book  and  returned  it  to 
his  pocket. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  report,  Sergeant?"  asked 
the  Assistant  Commissioner. 

"That's  all,  sir." 

"Very  good." 

Sergeant  Sowerby  retired. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Dunbar,  "I've  got  Inspector 
Kelly  here.  He  looks  after  the  Chinese  quarter. 
Shall  I  call  him?" 

"Yes,  Inspector." 

Presently  there  entered  a  burly  Irishman,  bluff 


THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 


and  good-humoured,  a  very  typical  example  of  the 
intelligent  superior  police  officer,  looking  keenly 
around  him. 

"Ah,  Inspector,"  the  Assistant  Commissioner 
greeted  him  —  "we  want  your  assistance  in  a  little 
matter  concerning  the  Chinese  residential  quarter. 
You  know  this  district?" 

"Certainly,  sir.   I  know  it  very  well." 

"On  this  map"  —  the  Assistant  Commissioner  laid 
a  discoloured  forefinger  upon  the  map  of  London  — 
"you  will  perceive  that  we  have  drawn  a  circle." 

Inspector  Kelly  bent  over  the  table. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Within  that  circle,  which  is  no  larger  in  circum- 
ference than  a  shilling  as  you  observe,  lies  a  house 
used  by  a  certain  group  of  people.  It  has  been  sug- 
gested to  me  that  these  people  may  be  Chinese  or 
associates  of  Chinese." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Inspector  Kelly,  smiling  broadly, 
"considering  the  patch  inside  the  circle  I  think  it 
more  than  likely  !  Seventy-five  or  it  may  be  eighty 
per  cent  of  the  rooms  and  cellars  and  attics  in  those 
three  streets  are  occupied  by  Chinese." 

"For  your  guidance,  Inspector,  we  believe  these 
people  to  be  a  dangerous  gang  of  international 
criminals.  Do  you  know  of  any  particular  house,  or 
houses,  likely  to  be  used  as  a  meeting-place  by  such 
a  gang?" 

Inspector  Kelly  scratched  his  close-cropped  head. 

"A  woman  was  murdered  just  there,  sir,"  he  said, 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  181 

taking  up  a  pen  from  the  table  and  touching  a  point 
near  the  corner  of  Three  Colt  Street,  "about  a 
twelve-month  ago.  We  traced  the  man — a  Chinese 
sailor — to  a  house  lying  just  about  here."  Again  he 
touched  the  map.  "It's  a  sort  of  little  junk-shop 
with  a  ramshackle  house  attached,  all  cellars  and 
rabbit-hutches,  as  you  might  say,  overhanging  a 
disused  cutting  which  is  filled  at  high  tide.  Opium  is 
to  be  had  there  and  card-playing  goes  on,  and  I  won't 
swear  that  you  couldn't  get  liquor.  But  it's  well 
conducted  as  such  dives  go." 

"Why  is  it  not  closed?"  inquired  the  Assistant 
Commissioner,   seizing  an  opportunity  to  air   hi 
departmental  ignorance. 

"Well,  sir,"  replied  Inspector  Kelly,  his  eyes 
twinkling — "if  we  shut  up  all  these  places  we  should 
never  know  where  to  look  for  some  of  our  regular 
customers!  As  I  mentioned,  we  found  the  wanted 
Chinaman,  three  parts  drunk,  in  one  of  the  rooms." 

"It's  a  sort  of  lodging  house,  then?" 

"Exactly.  There's  a  moderately  big  room  just 
behind  the  shop,  principally  used  by  opium-smokers, 
and  a  whole  nest  of  smaller  rooms  above  and  below. 
Mind  you,  sir,  I  don't  say  this  is  the  place  you're 
looking  for,  but  it's  the  most  likely  inside  your 
circle." 

"Who  is  the  proprietor?" 

"A  retired  Chinese  sailor  called  Ah-Fang-Fu,  but 
better  known  as  ' Pidgin.'  His  establishment  is  calle4 
locally  The  Pidgin  House.'  " 


182  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Ah."  The  Commissioner  lighted  a  cigarette. 
"And  you  know  of  no  other  house  which  might  be 
selected  for  such  a  purpose  as  I  have  mentioned?" 

"I  can't  say  I  do,  sir.  I  know  pretty  well  all  the 
business  affairs  of  that  neighbourhood,  and  none  of 
the  houses  inside  your  circle  have  changed  hands 
during  the  past  twelve  months.  Between  ourselves, 
sir,  nearly  all  the  property  in  the  district  belongs  to 
Ah-Fang-Fu,  and  anything  that  goes  on  in  China- 
town he  knows  about !" 

"Ah,  I  see.  Then  in  any  event  he  is  the  man  we 
want  to  watch?" 

"Well,  sir,  you  ought  to  keep  an  eye  on  his 
visitors,  I  should  say." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,  Inspector,"  said  the  cour- 
teous Assistant  Commissioner,  "for  your  very  exact 
information.  If  necessary  I  shall  communicate  with 
you  again.  Good-day." 

"Good-day,  sir,"  replied  the  Inspector.  "Good- 
day,  gentlemen." 

He  went  out. 

Gaston  Max,  who  had  diplomatically  remained  in 
the  background  throughout  this  interview,  now 
spoke. 

"Pardieu!  but  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  said. 
"Although  The  Scorpion,'  as  I  hope,  believes  that 
*fiat  troublesome  Charles  Malet  is  dead,  he  may  also 
wonder  if  Scotland  Yard  has  secured  from  Dr. 
Stuart's  fire  any  fragments  of  the  information  sealed 
in  the  envelope !  What  does  it  mean,  this  releasing 


THE  RED  CIRCLE  183 

of  the  yellow  car,  closing  of  the  bank  account  and 
departure  from  the  Savoy?" 

"It  means  flight !"  cried  Dunbar,  jumping  violently 
to  his  feet.  "By  gad,  sir !"  he  turned  to  the  Assis- 
tant Commissioner — "the  birds  may  have  flown  al- 
ready!" 

The  Assistant  Commissioner  leaned  back  in  his 
chair. 

"I  have  sufficient  confidence  in  M.  Max,"  he  said, 
"to  believe  that,  having  taken  the  responsibility  of 
permitting  this  dangerous  group  to  learn  that  they 
were  under  surveillance,  he  has  good  reason  to 
suppose  that  they  have  not  slipped  through  our 
fingers." 

Gaston  Max  bowed. 

"It  is  true,"  he  replied,  and  from  his  pocket  he 
took  a  slip  of  flimsy  paper.  "This  code  message 
reached  me  as  I  was  about  to  leave  my  hotel.  The 
quadroon,  Miguel,  left  Paris  last  night  and  arrived 
in  London  this  morning " 

"He  was  followed?"  cried  Dunbar. 

"But  certainly.  He  was  followed  to  Limehouse, 
and  he  was  definitely  seen  to  enter  the  establishment 
described  to  us  by  Inspector  Kelly !" 

"Gad!"  said  Dunbar — "then  someone  is  still 
there?" 

"Someone,  as  you  say,  is  still  there,"  replied  Max. 
"But  everything  points  to  the  imminent  departure  of 
this  someone.  Will  you  see  to  it,  Inspector,  that 
not  a  rat — pardieu!  not  a  little  mouse — is  allowed  to 


1 84  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

slip  out  of  our  red  circle  to-day.  For  to-night  we 
shall  pay  a  friendly  visit  to  the  house  of  Ah-Fang- 
Fu,  and  I  should  wish  all  the  company  to  be 
present." 


CHAPTER  III 
MISKA'S  STORY 

STUART  returned  to  his  house  in  a  troubled 
frame  of  mind.  He  had  refrained  so  long  from 
betraying-  the  circumstances  of  his  last  meeting 
with  Mile.  Dorian  to  the  police  authorities  that  this 
meeting  now  constituted  a  sort  of  guilty  secret,  a 
link  binding  him  to  the  beautiful  accomplice  of  "The 
Scorpion" — to  the  dark-eyed  servant  of  the  uncanny 
cowled  thing  which  had  sought  his  life  by  strange 
means.  He  hugged  this  secret  to  his  breast,  and 
the  pain  of  it  afforded  him  a  kind  of  savage  joy. 

In  his  study  he  found  a  Post  Office  workman  en- 
gaged in  fitting  a  new  telephone.  As  Stuart  entered 
the  man  turned. 

"Good-afternoon,  sir,"  he  said,  taking  up  the 
destroyed  instrument  from  the  litter  of  flux,  pincers 
and  screw  drivers  lying  upon  the  table.  "If  it's 
not  a  rude  question,  how  on  earth  did  this  happen  ?" 

Stuart  laughed  uneasily. 

"It  got  mixed  up  with  an  experiment  which  I  was 
conducting,"  he  replied  evasively. 

The  man  inspected  the  headless  trunk  of  the 
instrument. 

"It  seems  to  be  fused,  as  though  the  top  of  it 
had  been  in  a  blast  furnace,"  he  continued.  "Ex- 

185 


186  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

periments  of  that  sort  are  a  bit  dangerous  outside 
a  proper  laboratory,  I  should  think." 

"They  are,"  agreed  Stuart.  "But  I  have  no  facili- 
ties here,  you  see,  and  I  was — er — compelled  to 
attempt  the  experiment.  I  don't  intend  to  repeat 
it." 

"That's  lucky,"  murmured  the  man,  dropping  the 
instrument  into  a  carpet-bag.  "If  you  do,  it  will 
cost  you  a  tidy  penny  for  telephones !" 

Walking  out  towards  the  dispensary,  Stuart  met 
Mrs.  M'Gregor. 

"A  Post  Office  messenger  brought  this  letter  for 
you,  Mr.  Keppel,  just  the  now,"  she  said,  handing 
Stuart  a  sealed  envelope. 

He  took  the  envelope  from  her  hand,  and  turned 
quickly  away.  He  felt  that  he  had  changed  colour. 
For  it  was  addressed  in  the  handwriting  of  ... 
Mile.  Dorian! 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  M'Gregor,"  he  said,  and 
turned  into  the  dining-room. 

Mrs.  M'Gregor  proceeded  about  her  household 
duties,  and  as  her  footsteps  receded,  Stuart  fever- 
ishly tore  open  the  envelope.  That  elusive  scent  of 
jasmine  crept  to  his  nostrils.  In  the  envelope  was  a 
sheet  of  thick  note-paper  (having  the  top  cut  off 
evidently  in  order  to  remove  a  printed  address), 
upon  which  the  following  singular  message  was 
written : 

"Before  I  go  away  there  is  something  I  want  to 
say  to  you.  You  do  not  trust  me.  It  is  not  wonder- 


MISKA'S  STORY  187 

ful  that  you  do  not.  But  I  swear  that  I  only  want 
to  save  you  from  a  great  danger.  If  you  will 
promise  not  to  tell  the  police  anything  of  it,  I  will 
meet  you  at  six  o'clock  by  the  Book  Stall  at  Victoria 
Station— on  the  Brighton  side.  If  you  agree  you 
will  wear  something  white  in  your  button-hole.  If 
not  you  cannot  find  me  there.  Nobody  ever  sees 
me  again." 

There  was  no  signature,  but  no  signature  was 
necessary. 

Stuart  laid  the  letter  on  the  table,  and  began  to 
pace  up  and  down  the  room.  His  heart  was  beating 
ridiculously.  His  self -contempt  was  profound.  But 
he  could  not  mistake  his  sentiments. 

His  duty  was  plain  enough.  But  he  had  failed  in 
it  once,  and  even  as  he  strode  up  and  down  the 
room,  already  he  knew  that  he  must  fail  again.  He 
knew  that,  rightly  or  wrongly,  he  was  incapable  of 
placing  this  note  in  the  hands  of  the  police  .  .  .  and 
he  knew  that  he  should  be  at  Victoria  Station  at 
six  o'clock. 

He  would  never  have  believed  himself  capable  of 
becoming  accessory  to  a  series  of  crimes — for  this 
was  what  his  conduct  amounted  to ;  he  had  thought 
that  sentiment  no  longer  held  any  meaning  for  him. 
Yet  the  only  excuse  which  he  could  find  wherewith 
to  solace  himself  was  that  this  girl  had  endeavoured 
to  save  him  from  assassination.  Weighed  against 
the  undoubted  fact  that  she  was  a  member  of  a 
dangerous  criminal  group  what  was  it  worth?  If 


188  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

the  supposition  of  Gaston  Max  was  correct,  "The 
Scorpion"  had  at  least  six  successful  murders  to  his 
credit,  in  addition  to  the  attempt  upon  his  (Stuart's) 
life  and  that  of  "Le  Balafre"  upon  the  life  of  Gaston 
Max.  It  was  an  accomplice  of  this  nameless  horror 
called  the  "The  Scorpion"  with  whom  at  six  o'clock 
he  had  a  tryst,  whom  he  was  protecting  from  justice, 
by  the  suppression  of  whose  messages  to  himself  he 
was  adding  difficulties  to  the  already  difficult  task 
of  the  authorities ! 

Up  and  down  he  paced,  restlessly,  every  now  and 
again  glancing  at  a  clock  upon  the  mantelpiece.  His 
behavior  he  told  himself  was  contemptible. 

Yet,  at  a  quarter  to  six,  he  went  out — and  seeing  a 
little  cluster  of  daisies  growing  amongst  the  grass 
bordering  the  path,  he  plucked  one  and  set  it  in  his 
button-hole ! 

A  few  minutes  before  the  hour  he  entered  the 
station  and  glanced  sharply  around  at  the  many 
groups  scattered  about  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
bookstall.  There  was  no  sign  of  Mile.  Dorian.  He 
walked  around  the  booking  office  without  seeing  her 
and  glanced  into  the  waiting-room.  Then,  looking 
up  at  the  station  clock,  he  saw  that  the  hour  had 
come,  and  as  he  stood  there  staring  upward  he  felt 
a  timid  touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  turned — and  she  was  standing  by  his  side ! 

She  was  Parisian  from  head  to  foot,  simply  but 
perfectly  gowned.  A  veil  hung  from  her  hat  and 
half  concealed  her  face,  but  could  not  hide  her  won- 


MISKA'S  STORY  189 

derful  eyes  nor  disguise  the  delightful  curves  of  her 
red  lips.  Stuart  automatically  raised  his  hat,  and 
even  as  he  did  so  wondered  what  she  should  have 
said  and  done  had  she  suddenly  found  Gaston  Max 
standing  at  his  elbow !  He  laughed  shortly. 

"You  are  angry  with  me,"  said  Mile.  Dorian,  and 
Stuart  thought  that  her  quaint  accent  was  adorable. 
"Or  are  you  angry  with  yourself  for  seeing  me?" 

"I  am  angry  with  myself,"  he  replied,  "for  being 
so  weak." 

"Is  it  so  weak,"  she  said,  rather  tremulously, 
"not  to  judge  a  woman  by  what  she  seems  to  be 
and  not  to  condemn  her  before  you  hear  what  she 
has  to  say?  If  that  is  weak,  I  am  glad ;  I  think  it  is 
how  a  man  should  be." 

Her  voice  and  her  eyes  completed  the  spell,  and 
Stuart  resigned  himself  without  another  struggle  to 
this  insane  infatuation. 

"We  cannot  very  well  talk  here,"  he  said.  "Sup- 
pose we  go  into  the  hotel  and  have  late  tea,  Mile. 
Dorian." 

"Yes.  Very  well.  But  please  do  not  call  me 
that.  It  is  not  my  name." 

Stuart  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "Zara  el-Khala 
then,"  but  checked  himself  in  the  nick  of  time.  He 
might  hold  communication  with  the  enemy,  but  at 
least  he  would  give  away  no  information. 

"I  am  called  Miska,"  she  added.  "Will  you  please 
call  me  Miska?" 

"Of  course,  if  you  wish,"  said  Stuart,  looking 


190  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

down  at  her  as  she  walked  by  his  side  and  wonder- 
ing what  he  would  do  when  he  had  to  stand  up  in 
Court,  look  at  Miska  in  the  felon's  dock  and  speak 
words  which  would  help  to  condemn  her — perhaps 
to  death,  at  least  to  penal  servitude !  He  shuddered. 

"Have  I  said  something  that  displeases  you?" 
she  asked,  resting  a  little  white-gloved  hand  on  his 
arm.  "I  am  sorry." 

"No,  no,"  he  assured  her.  "But  I  was  thinking 
— I  cannot  help  thinking  .  .  ." 

"How  wicked  I  am?"  she  whispered. 

"How  lovely  you  are!"  he  said  hotly,  "and  how 
maddening  it  is  to  remember  that  your  are  an  accom- 
plice of  criminals!" 

"Oh,"  she  said,  and  removed  her  hand,  but  not 
before  he  had  felt  how  it  trembled.  They  were 
about  to  enter  the  tea-room  when  she  added :  "Please 
don't  say  that  until  I  have  told  you  why  I  do  what 
I  do." 

Obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  he  took  her  hand  and 
drew  it  close  under  his  arm. 

"No,"  he  said;  "I  won't.  I  was  a  brute,  Miska. 
Miska  means  'musk,'  surely?" 

"Yes."  She  glanced  up  at  him  timidly  "Do 
you  think  it  a  pretty  name?" 

"Very,"  he  said,  laughing. 

Underlying  the  Western  veneer  was  the  fascinat- 
ing naivete  of  the  Eastern  woman,  and  Miska  had 
all  the  suave  grace,  too,  which  belongs  to  the  women 
of  the  Orient,  so  that  many  admiring  glances  fol- 


MISKA'S  STORY  191 

lowed  her  charming  figure  as  she  crossed  the  room 
to  a  vacant  table. 

"Now,"  said  Stuart,  when  he  had  given  an  order 
to  the  waiter,  "what  do  you  want  to  tell  me  ?  What- 
ever it  may  be,  I  am  all  anxiety  to  hear  it.  I  promise 
that  I  will  only  act  upon  anything  you  may  tell  me 
in  the  event  of  my  life,  or  that  of  another,  being 
palpably  endangered  by  my  silence." 

"Very  well.  I  want  to  tell  you,"  replied  Miska, 
"why  I  stay  with  Fo-Hi." 

"Who  is  Fo-Hi?" 

"I  do  not  know !" 

"What !"  said  Stuart.  "I  am  afraid  I  don't  un- 
derstand you." 

"If  I  speak  in  French  will  you  be  able  to  follow 
what  I  say?" 

"Certainly.  Are  you  more  at  ease  with  French?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Miska,  beginning  to  speak  in  the 
latter  language.  "My  mother  was  French,  you  see, 
and  although  I  can  speak  in  English  fairly  well  I 
cannot  yet  think  in  English.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly.  So  perhaps  you  will  now  explain  to 
whom  you  refer  when  you  speak  of  Fo-Hi." 

Miska  glanced  apprehensively  around  her,  bend- 
ing further  forward  over  the  table. 

"Let  me  tell  you  from  the  beginning,"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "and  then  you  will  understand.  It 
must  not  take  me  long.  You  see  me  as  I  am  to-day 
because  of  a  dreadful  misfortune  that  befell  m% 
when  I  was  fifteen  years  old. 


192  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"My  father  was  Wall  of  Aleppo,  and  my  mother, 
his  third  wife,  was  a  Frenchwoman,  a  member  of  a 
theatrical  company  which  had  come  to  Cairo,  where 
he  had  first  seen  her.  She  must  have  loved  him,  for 
she  gave  up  the  world,  embraced  Islam  and  entered 
his  harem  in  the  great  house  on  the  outskirts  of 
Aleppo.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he,  too,  was  half 
French,  that  they  were  mutually  attracted.  My 
father's  mother  was  a  Frenchwoman  also,  you  un- 
derstand. 

"Until  I  was  fifteen  years  of  age,  I  never  left  the 
harem,  but  my  mother  taught  me  French  and  also  a 
little  English ;  and  she  prevailed  upon  my  father  not 
to  give  me  in  marriage  so  early  as  is  usual  in  the 
East.  She  taught  me  to  understand  the  ways  of 
European  women,  and  we  used  to  have  Paris  jour- 
nals and  many  books  come  to  us  regularly.  Then  an 
awful  pestilence  visited  Aleppo.  People  were  dying 
in  the  mosques  and  in  the  streets,  and  my  father 
decided  to  send  my  mother  and  myself  and  some 
others  of  the  harem  to  his  brother's  house  in 
Damaskus. 

"Perhaps  you  will  think  that  such  things  do  not 
happen  in  these  days,  and  particularly  to  members 
of  the  household  of  a  chief  magistrate,  but  I  can 
only  tell  you  what  is  true.  On  the  second  night  of 
our  journey  a  band  of  Arabs  swept  down  upon  the 
caravan,  overpowered  the  guards,  killing  them  all, 
and  carried  off  everything  of  value  which  we  had. 
Me,  also,  they  carried  off — me  and  one  other,  a 


MISKA'S  STORY  193 

little  Syrian  girl,  my  cousin.  Oh!"  she  shuddered 
violently — "even  now  I  can  sometimes  hear  the 
shrieks  of  my  mother  .  .  .  and  I  can  hear,  also, 
the  way  they  suddenly  ceased,  those  cries  .  .  ." 

Stuart  looked  up  with  a  start  to  find  a  Swiss 
waiter  placing  tea  upon  the  table.  He  felt  like 
rubbing  his  eyes.  He  had  been  dragged  rudely 
back  from  the  Syrian  desert  to  the  prosaic  realities 
of  a  London  hotel. 

"Perhaps,"  continued  Miska,  "you  will  think  that 
we  were  ill-treated,  but  it  was  not  so.  No  one 
molested  us.  We  were  given  every  comfort  which 
desert  life  can  provide,  servants  to  wait  upon  us 
and  plenty  of  good  food.  After  several  weeks' 
journeying  we  came  to  a  large  city,  having  many 
minarets  and  domes  glimmering  in  the  moonlight; 
for  we  entered  at  night.  Indeed,  we  always  trav- 
elled at  night.  At  the  time  I  had  no  idea  of  the 
name  of  this  city  but  I  learned  afterwards  that  it 
was  Mecca. 

"As  we  proceeded  through  the  streets,  the  As- 
syrian girl  and  I  peeped  out  through  the  little  win- 
dows of  the  shibrlyeh — which  is  a  kind  of  tent  on 
the  back  of  a  camel — in  which  we  travelled,  hoping 
to  see  some  familiar  face  or  someone  to  whom  we 
could  appeal.  But  there  seemed  to  be  scarcely  any- 
one visible  in  the  streets,  although  lights  shone  out 
from  many  windows,  and  the  few  men  we  saw 
seemed  to  be  anxious  to  avoid  us.  In  fact,  several 
ran  down  side  turnings  as  the  camels  approached. 


194  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"We  stopped  before  the  gate  of  a  large  house 
which  was  presently  opened,  and  the  camels  en- 
tered the  courtyard.  We  descended,  and  I  saw 
that  a  number  of  small  apartments  surrounded  the 
courtyard  in  the  manner  of  a  caravanserai.  Then, 
suddenly,  I  saw  something  else,  and  I  knew  why 
we  had  been  treated  with  such  consideration  on  the 
journey;  I  knew  into  what  hands  I  had  fallen — 
I  knew  that  I  was  in  the  house  of  a  slave-dealer!" 

"Good  heavens !"  muttered  Stuart — "this  is  almost 
incredible." 

"I  knew  you  would  doubt  what  I  had  to  tell  you," 
declared  Miska  plaintively;  "but  I  solemnly  swear 
what  I  tell  you  is  the  truth.  Yes,  I  was  in  the  house 
of  a  slave-dealer,  and  on  the  very  next  day,  because 
I  was  proficient  in  languages,  in  music  and  in  danc- 
ing, and  also  because — according  to  their  Eastern 
ideas — I  was  pretty,  the  dealer,  Mohammed  Abd-el- 
Eali  .  .  .  offered  me  for  sale." 

She  stopped,  lowering  her  eyes  and  flushing  hotly, 
then  continued  with  hesitancy. 

"In  a  small  room  which  I  can  never  forget  I  was 
offered  the  only  indignity  which  I  had  been  called 
upon  to  suffer  since  my  abduction.  I  was  exhibited 
to  prospective  purchasers." 

As  she  spoke  the  words,  Miska's  eyes  flashed 
passionately  and  her  hand,  which  lay  on  the  table, 
trembled.  Stuart  silently  reached  across  and  rested 
his  own  upon  it. 

"There  were  all  kinds  of  girls,"  Miska  continued. 


MISKA'S  STORY  195 

"black  and  brown  and  white,  in  the  adjoining  rooms, 
and  some  of  them  were  singing  and  some  dancing, 
whilst  others  wept.  Four  different  visitors  in- 
spected me  critically,  two  of  them  being  agents  for 
royal  harems  and  the  other  two — how  shall  I  say  it  ? 
— wealthy  connoisseurs.  But  the  price  asked  by 
Mohammed  Abd-el-Bali  was  beyond  the  purses  of 
all  except  one  of  the  agents.  He  had  indeed  settled 
the  bargain,  when  the  singing  and  dancing  and  shout- 
ing— every  sound  it  seemed — ceased  about  me  .  .  . 
and  into  the  little  room  in  which  I  crouched  amongst 
perfumed  cushions  at  the  feet  of  the  two  men, 
walked  Fo-Hi." 


CHAPTER  IV 
MISKA'S  STORY  (concluded) 

'  yp*~"V  F  course,  I  did  not  know  that  this  was  his 
1  1  name  at  the  time ;  I  only  knew  that  a  tall 
^— "  Chinaman  had  entered  the  room — and  that 
his  face  was  entirely  covered  by  a  green  veil." 

Stuart  started,  but  did  not  interrupt  Miska's  story. 

"This  veil  gave  him  in  some  way  a  frightfully 
malign  and  repellent  appearance.  As  he  stood  in 
the  doorway  looking  down  I  seemed  to  feel  his  gaze 
passing  over  me  like  a  flame,  although  of  course  I 
could  not  see  his  eyes.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
there  looking  at  me ;  and  much  as  his  presence  had 
affected  me,  its  effect  upon  the  slave-dealer  and  my 
purchaser  was  extraordinary.  They  seemed  to  be 
stricken  dumb.  Suddenly  the  Chinaman  spoke,  in 
perfect  Arabic.  'Her  price  ?'  he  said. 

"Mohammed  Abd-el-Bali,  standing  trembling  be- 
fore him,  replied : 

"  'Miska  is  already  sold,  lord,  but ' 

"  'Her  price  ?'  repeated  the  Chinaman,  in  the 
same  hard  metallic  voice  and  without  the  slightest 
change  of  intonation. 

"The  harem  agent  who  had  bought  me  now  said, 
his  voice  shaking  so  that  the  words  were  barely 
audible : 

196 


MISKA'S  STORY  .  197 

"  'I  give  her  up,  Mohammed — I  give  her  up. 
Who  am  I  to  dispute  with  the  Mandarin  Fo-Hi;' 
and  performing  an  abject  obeisance  he  backed  out 
of  the  room. 

"At  the  same  moment,  Mohammed,  whose  knees 
were  trembling  so  that  they  seemed  no  longer  cap- 
able of  supporting  him,  addressed  the  Chinaman. 

"  'Accept  the  maiden  as  an  unworthy  gift,'  he 
began — 

"  'Her  price  ?'  repeated  Fo-Hi. 

"Mohammed,  whose  teeth  had  begun  to  chatter, 
asked  him  twice  as  much  as  he  had  agreed  to  accept 
from  the  other,  Fo-Hi  clapped  his  hands,  and  a 
fierce-eyed  Hindu  entered  the  room. 

"Fo-Hi  addressed  him  in  a  language  which  I  did 
not  understand,  although  I  have  since  learned  that 
it  was  Hindustani,  and  the  Indian  from  a  purse 
which  he  carried  counted  out  the  amount  demanded 
by  the  dealer  and  placed  the  money  upon  a  little 
inlaid  table  which  stood  in  the  room.  Fo-Hi  gave 
him  some  brief  order,  turned  and  walked  out  of  the 
room.  I  did  not  see  him  again  for  four  years — that 
is  to  say  until  my  nineteenth  birthday. 

"I  know  that  you  are  wondering  about  many 
things  and  I  will  try  to  make  some  of  them  clear  to 
you.  You  are  wondering,  no  doubt,  how  such  a 
trade  as  I  have  described  is  carried  on  in  the  East 
to-day  almost  under  the  eyes  of  European  Govern- 
ments. Now  I  shall  surprise  you.  When  I  was 
taken  from  the  house  of  the  slave-dealer,  in  charge 


198  .        THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

of  Chunda  Lai — for  this  was  the  name  of  the  Hindu 
— do  you  know  where  I  was  carried  to?  I  will  tell 
you:  to  Cairo!" 

"Cairo!"  cried  Stuart — then,  perceiving  that  he 
had  attracted  attention  by  speaking  so  loudly,  he 
lowered  his  voice.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you  were  taken  as  a  slave  to  Cairo?" 

Miska  smiled — and  her  smile  was  the  taunting 
smile  of  the  East,  which  is  at  once  a  caress  and  an 
invitation. 

"You  think,  no  doubt,  that  there  are  no  slaves  in 
Cairo?"  she  said.  "So  do  most  people,  and  so  did 
I — once.  I  learned  better.  There  are  palaces  in 
Cairo,  I  assure  you,  in  which  there  are  many  slaves. 
I  myself  lived  in  such  a  palace  for  four  years,  and  I 
was  not  the  only  slave  there.  What  do  British 
residents  and  French  residents  know  of  the  inner 
domestic  life  of  their  Oriental  neighbours?  Are 
they  ever  admitted  to  the  harem?  And  the  slaves — 
are  they  ever  admitted  outside  the  walls  of  the 
palace?  Sometimes,  yes,  but  never  alone! 

"By  slow  stages,  following  the  ancient  caravan 
routes,  and  accompanied  by  an  extensive  retinue  of 
servants  in  charge  of  Chunda  Lai,  we  came  to  Cairo ; 
and  one  night,  approaching  the  city  from  the  north- 
east and  entering  by  the  Bab  en-Nasr,  I  was  taken 
to  the  old  palace  which  was  to  be  my  prison  for  four 
years.  How  I  passed  those  four  years  has  no  bear- 
ing upon  the  matters  which  I  have  to  tell  you,  but  I 
lived  the  useless,  luxurious  life  of  some  Arabian 


MISKA'S  STORY  199 

princess,  my  lightest  wish  anticipated  and  gratified ; 
nothing  was  denied  me,  except  freedom. 

"Then,  one  day — it  was  actually  my  nineteenth 
birthday — Chunda  Lai  presented  himself  and  told 
me  that  I  was  to  have  an  interview  with  Fo-Hi. 
Hearing  these  words,  I  nearly  swooned,  for  a 
hundred  times  during  the  years  of  my  strange  lux- 
urious captivity  I  had  awakened  trembling  in  the 
night,  thinking  that  the  figure  of  the  awful  veiled 
Chinaman  had  entered  the  room. 

"You  must  understand  that  having  spent  my 
childhood  in  a  harem,  the  mode  of  life  which  I  was 
compelled  to  follow  in  Cairo  was  not  so  insufferable 
as  it  must  have  been  for  a  European  woman. 
Neither  was  my  captivity  made  unduly  irksome.  I 
often  drove  through  the  European  quarters,  always 
accompanied  by  Chunda  Lai,  and  closely  veiled,  and 
I  regularly  went  shopping  in  the  bazaars — but  never 
alone.  The  death  of  my  mother — and  later  that  of 
my  father,  of  which  Chunda  Lai  had  told  me — were 
griefs  that  time  had  dulled.  But  the  horror  of  Fo- 
Hi  was  one  which  lived  with  me,  day  and  night. 

"To  a  wing  of  the  palace  kept  closely  locked,  and 
which  I  had  never  seen  opened,  I  was  conducted  by 
Chunda  Lai.  There,  in  a  room  of  a  kind  with  which 
I  have  since  become  painfully  familiar,  a  room  which 
was  part  library  and  part  mandarah,  part  museum 
and  part  laboratory,  I  found  the  veiled  man  seated 
at  a  great  littered  table.  As  I  stood  trembling  before 
him  he  raised  a  long  yellow  hand  and  waved  to 


200  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Chunda  Lai  to  depart.  When  he  obeyed  and  I  heard 
the  door  close  I  could  scarcely  repress  a  shriek  of 
terror. 

"For  what  seemed  an  interminable  time  he  sat 
watching  me.  I  dared  not  look  at  him,  but  again  I 
felt  his  gaze  passing  over  me  like  a  flame.  Then  he 
began  to  speak,  in  French,  which  he  spoke  without 
a  trace  of  accent. 

"He  told  me  briefly  that  my  life  of  idleness  had 
ended  and  that  a  new  life  of  activity  in  many  parts 
of  the  world  was  about  to  commence.  His  manner 
was  quite  unemotional,  neither  harsh  nor  kindly,  his 
metallic  voice  conveyed  no  more  than  the  bare 
meaning  of  the  words  which  he  uttered.  When, 
finally,  he  ceased  speaking,  he  struck  a  gong  which 
hung  from  a  corner  of  the  huge  table,  and  Chunda 
Lai  entered. 

"Fo-Hi  addressed  a  brief  order  to  him  in  Hindu- 
stani— and  a  few  moments  later  a  second  Chinaman 
walked  slowly  into  the  room." 

Miska  paused,  as  if  to  collect  her  ideas,  but  con- 
tinued almost  immediately. 

"He  wore  a  plain  yellow  robe  and  had  a  little 
black  cap  on  his  head.  His  face,  his  wonderful  evil 
face  I  can  never  forget,  and  his  eyes — I  fear  you 
will  think  I  exaggerate — but  his  eyes  were  green  as 
emeralds !  He  fixed  them  upon  me. 

"  This,'  said  Fo-Hi,  'is  Miska.* 

"The  other  Chinaman  continued  to  regard  me 
with  those  dreadful  eyes ;  then : 


MI  SKA'S  STORY  201 

"'You  have  chosen  well,'  he  said,  turned  and 
slowly  went  out  again. 

"I  thank  God  that  I  have  never  seen  him  since, 
for  his  dreadful  face  haunted  my  dreams  for  long 
afterwards.  But  I  have  heard  of  him,  and  I  know 
that  next  to  Fo-Hi  he  is  the  most  dangerous  being 
in  the  known  world.  He  has  invented  horrible 
things — poisons  and  instruments,  which  I  cannot 
describe  because  I  have  never  seen  them ;  but  I  have 
seen  .  .  .  some  of  their  effects." 

She  paused,  overcome  with  the  horror  of  her 
memories. 

"What  is  the  name  of  this  other  man?"  asked 
Stuart  eagerly.  Miska  glanced  at  him  rapidly. 

"Oh,  do  not  ask  me  questions,  please !"  she 
pleaded.  "I  will  tell  you  all  I  can,  all  I  dare ;  what 
I  do  not  tell  you  I  cannot  tell  you — and  this  is  one 
of  the  things  I  dare  not  tell.  He  is  a  Chinese  scien- 
tist and,  I  have  heard,  the  greatest  genius  in  the 
whole  world,  but  I  can  say  no  more — yet." 

"Is  he  still  alive — this  man?" 

"I  do  not  know  that.  If  he  is  alive,  he  is  in  China 
— at  some  secret  palace  in  the  province  of  Ho-Nan, 
which  is  the  headquarters  of  what  is  called  the 
'Sublime  Order/  I  have  never  been  there,  but  there 
are  Europeans  there,  as  well  as  Orientals." 

"What!  in  the  employ  of  these  fiends!" 

"It  is  useless  to  ask  me — oh!  indeed,  I  would 
tell  you  if  I  could,  but  I  cannot !  Let  me  go  on  from 
the  time  when  I  saw  Fo-Hi  in  Cairo.  He  told  me 


202  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

that  I  was  a  member  of  an  organization  dating  back 
to  remote  antiquity  which  was  destined  to  rule  all 
the  races  of  mankind — the  Celestial  Age  he  called 
their  coming  triumph.  Something  which  they  had 
lacked  in  order  to  achieve  success  had  been  supplied 
by  the  dreadful  man  who  had  entered  the  room  and 
expressed  his  approval  of  me. 

"For  many  years  they  had  been  at  work  in 
Europe,  secretly,  as  well  as  in  the  East.  I  under- 
stood that  they  had  acquired  a  quantity  of  valuable 
information  of  some  kind  by  means  of  a  system  of 
opium-houses  situated  in  the  principal  capitals  of 
the  world  and  directed  by  Fo-Hi  and  a  number  of 
Chinese  assistants.  Fo-Hi  had  remained  in  China 
most  of  the  time,  but  had  paid  occasional  visits  to 
Europe.  The  other  man — the  monster  with  the 
black  skull  cap — had  been  responsible  for  the  con- 
duct of  the  European  enterprises." 

"Throughout  this  interview,"  interrupted  Stuart, 
forgetful  of  the  fact  that  Miska  had  warned  him  of 
the  futility  of  asking  questions,  "and  during  others 
which  you  must  have  had  with  Fo-Hi,  did  you  never 
obtain  a  glimpse  of  his  face?" 

"Never!  No  one  has  ever  seen  his  face!  I 
know  that  his  eyes  are  a  brilliant  and  unnatural 
yellow  colour,  but  otherwise  I  should  not  know  him 
if  I  saw  him  unveiled,  to-morrow.  Except,"  she 
added,  "by  a  sense  of  loathing  which  his  presence 
inspires  in  me.  But  I  must  hurry.  If  you  interrupt 
me,  I  shall  not  have  time. 


MISKA'S  STORY  203 

"From  that  day  in  Cairo — oh!  how  can  I  tell 
you !  I  began  the  life  of  an  adventuress !  I  do  not 
deny  it.  I  came  here  to  confess  it  to  you.  I  went 
to  New  York,  to  London,  to  Paris,  to  Petrograd ;  I 
went  all  over  the  world.  I  had  beautiful  dresses, 
jewels,  admiration — all  that  women  live  for!  And 
in  the  midst  of  it  all  mine  was  the  life  of  the  cloister ; 
no  nun  could  be  more  secluded! 

"I  see  the  question  in  your  eyes — why  did  I  do 
it?  Why  did  I  lure  men  into  the  clutches  of  Fo-Hi? 
For  this  is  what  I  did;  and  when  I  have  failed,  I 
have  been  punished." 

Stuart  shrank  from  her. 

"You  confess,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "that  you  know- 
ingly lured  men  to  death?" 

"Ah,  no !"  she  whispered,  looking  about  her  fear- 
fully— "never!  never!  I  swear  it — never!" 

"Then"— he  stared  at  her  blankly— "I  do  not 
understand  you!" 

"I  dare  not  make  it  clearer — now :  I  dare  not — 
dare  not !  But  believe  me !  Oh,  please,  please,"  she 
pleaded,  her  soft  voice  dropping  to  a  whisper — 
"believe  me!  If  you  know  what  I  risked  to  tell 
you  so  much,  you  would  be  more  merciful.  A  horror 
which  cannot  be  described" — again  she  shuddered 
— "will  fall  upon  me  if  he  ever  suspects !  You  think 
me  young  and  full  of  life,  with  all  the  world  before 
me.  You  do  not  know.  I  am,  literally,  already 
dead!  Oh!  I  have  followed  a  strange  career.  I 
have  danced  in  a  Paris  theatre  and  I  have  sold 


204  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

flowers  in  Rome;  I  have  had  my  box  at  the  Opera 
and  I  have  filled  opium  pipes  in  a  den  at  San 
Francisco !  But  never,  never  have  I  lured  a  man  to 
his  death.  And  through  it  all,  from  first  to  last, 
no  man  has  so  much  as  kissed  my  finger-tips ! 

"At  a  word,  at  a  sign,  I  have  been  compelled  to 
go  from  Monte  Carlo  to  Buenos  Ayres ;  at  another 
sign  from  there  to  Tokio !  Chunda  Lai  has  guarded 
me  as  only  the  women  of  the  East  are  guarded.  Yet, 
in  his  fierce  way,  he  has  always  tried  to  befriend  me, 
he  has  always  been  faithful.  But  ah !  I  shrink  from 
him  many  times,  in  horror,  because  I  know  what  he 
is !  But  I  may  not  tell  you.  Look !  Chunda  Lai 
has  never  been  out  of  sound  of  this  whistle" — she 
drew  a  little  silver  whistle  from  her  dress — "for  a 
moment  since  that  day  when  he  came  into  the  house 
of  the  slave-dealer  in  Mecca,  except " 

And  now,  suddenly,  a  wave  of  glorious  colour 
flooded  her  beautiful  face  and  swiftly  she  lowered 
her  eyes,  replacing  the  little  whistle.  Stuart's  re- 
bellious heart  leapt  madly,  for  whatever  he  might 
think  of  her  almost  incredible  story,  that  sweet  blush 
was  no  subterfuge,  no  product  of  acting. 

"You  almost  drive  me  mad,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  resembling  the  tones  of  repressed  savagery. 
"You  tell  me  so  much,  but  withhold  so  much  that  I 
am  more  bewildered  than  ever.  I  can  understand 
your  helplessness  in  an  Eastern  household,  but  why 
should  you  obey  the  behests  of  this  veiled  monster 
in  London,  in  New  York,  in  Paris?" 


MISKA'S  STORY  205 

She  did  not  raise  her  eyes. 

"I  dare  not  tell  you.    But  I  dare  not  disobey  him." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"No  one  knows,  because  no  one  has  ever  seen  his 
face!  Ah!  you  are  laughing!  But  I  swear  before 
heaven  I  speak  the  truth!  Indoors  he  wears  a 
Chinese  dress  and  a  green  veil.  In  passing  from 
place  to  place,  which  he  always  does  at  night,  he  is 
attired  in  a  kind  of  cowl  which  only  exposes  his 
eyes " 

"But  how  can  such  a  fantastic  being  travel?" 

"By  road,  on  land,  and  in  a  steam  yacht,  at  sea. 
Why  should  you  doubt  my  honesty  ?"  She  suddenly 
raised  her  glance  to  Stuart's  face  and  he  saw  that 
she  had  grown  pale.  "I  have  risked  what  I  cannot 
tell  you,  and  more  than  once — for  you!  I  tried  to 
call  you  on  the  telephone  on  the  night  that  he  set 
out  from  the  house  near  Hampton  Court  to  kill  you, 
but  I  could  get  no  reply,  and " 

"Stop!"  said  Stuart,  almost  too  excited  to  note 
at  the  time  that  she  had  betrayed  a  secret.  "It 
was  you  who  rang  up  that  night?" 

"Yes.     Why  did  you  not  answer?" 

"Never  mind.  Your  call  saved  my  life.  I  shall 
not  forget."  He  looked  into  her  eyes.  "But  can 
you  not  tell  me  what  it  all  means  ?  What  or  whom 
is  'The  Scorpion'?" 

She  flinched. 

"The  Scorpion  is — a  passport.  See."  From  a 
little  pocket  in  the  coat  of  her  costume  she  drew  out 


206  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

a  golden  scorpion!  "I  have  one."  She  replaced  it 
hurriedly.  "I  dare  not,  dare  not  tell  you  more. 
But  this  much  I  had  to  tell  you,  because  ...  I  shall 
never  see  you  again  1" 

"What!" 

"A  French  detective,  a  very  clever  man,  learned 
a  lot  about  'The  Scorpion'  and  he  followed  one  of 
the  members  to  England.  This  man  killed  him.  Oh, 
I  know  I  belong  to  a  horrible  organization!"  she 
cried  bitterly.  "But  I  tell  you  I  am  helpless  and 
7  have  never  aided  in  such  a  thing.  You  should 
know  that!  But  all  he  found  out  he  left  with  you — 
and  I  do  not  know  if  I  succeeded  in  destroying  it. 
I  do  not  ask  you.  I  do  not  care.  But  I  leave  Eng- 
land to-night.  Good-bye." 

She  suddenly  stood  up.  Stuart  rose  also.  He 
was  about  to  speak  when  Miska's  expression 
changed.  A  look  of  terror  crept  over  her  face,  and 
hastily  lowering  her  veil  she  walked  rapidly  away 
from  the  table  and  out  of  the  room! 

Many  curious  glances  followed  the  elegant  figure 
to  the  door.  Then  those  glances  were  directed  upon 
Stuart. 

Flushing  with  embarrassment,  he  quickly  settled 
the  bill  and  hurried  out  of  the  hotel.  Gaining  the 
street,  he  looked  eagerly  right  and  left 

But  Miska  had  disappeared! 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  HEART  OF  CHUNDA  LAL 

DUSK  had  drawn  a  grey  mantle  over  the  East- 
End  streets  when  Miska,  discharging  the  cab 
in  which  she  had  come  from  Victoria,  hurried 
furtively  along  a  narrow  alley  tending  Thamesward. 
Unconsciously  she  crossed  a  certain  line — a  line 
invisible  except  upon  a  map  of  London  which  lay 
upon  the  table  of  the  Assistant  Commissioner  in 
New  Scotland  Yard — the  line  forming  the  "red 
circle"  of  M.  Gaston  Max.  And,  crossing  this  line, 
she  became  the  focus  upon  which  four  pairs  of 
watchful  eyes  were  directed. 

Arriving  at  the  door  of  a  mean  house  some  little 
distance  removed  from  that  of  Ah-Fang-Fu,  Miska 
entered,  for  the  door  was  open,  and  disappeared 
from  the  view  of  the  four  detectives  who  were 
watching  the  street.  Her  heart  was  beating  rapidly. 
For  she  had  thought,  as  she  had  stood  up  to  leave 
the  restaurant,  that  the  fierce  eyes  of  Chunda  Lai 
had  looked  in  through  the  glass  panel  of  one  of 
the  doors. 

This  gloomy  house  seemed  to  swallow  her  up,  and 
the  men  who  watched  wondered  more  and  more 
what  had  become  of  the  elegant  figure,  grotesque  in 
such  a  setting,  which  had  vanished  into  the  narrow 

207 


2o8  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

doorway — and  which  did  not  reappear.  Even  In- 
spector Keily,  who  knew  so  much  about  Chinatown, 
did  not  know  that  the  cellars  of  the  three  houses 
left  and  right  of  Ah-Fang-Fu's  were  connected  by 
a  series  of  doors  planned  and  masked  with  Chinese 
cunning. 

Half  an  hour  after  Miska  had  disappeared  into 
the  little  house  near  the  corner,  the  hidden  door  in 
the  damp  cellar  below  "The  Pidgin  House"  opened 
and  a  bent  old  woman,  a  ragged,  grey-haired  and 
dirty  figure,  walked  slowly  up  the  rickety  wooden 
stair  and  entered  a  bare  room  behind  and  below 
the  shop  and  to  the  immediate  left  of  the  den  of  the 
opium-smokers.  This  room,  which  was  windowless, 
was  lighted  by  a  tin  paraffin  lamp  hung  upon  a  nail 
in  the  dirty  plaster  wall.  The  floor  presented  a  litter 
of  straw,  paper  and  broken  packing-cases.  Two 
steps  led  up  to  a  second  door,  a  square  heavy  door 
of  great  strength.  The  old  woman,  by  means  of  a 
key  which  she  carried,  was  about  to  open  this  door 
when  it  was  opened  from  the  other  side. 

Lowering  his  head  as  he  came  through,  Chunda 
Lai  descended.  He  wore  European  clothes  and  a 
white  turban.  Save  for  his  ardent  eyes  and  the 
handsome  fanatical  face  of  the  man,  he  might  have 
passed  for  a  lascar.  He  turned  and  half  closed  the 
door.  The  woman  shrank  from  him,  but  extending 
a  lean  brown  hand  he  gripped  her  arm.  His  eyes 
glittered  feverishly. 

"So!"  he  said,  "we  are  all  leaving  England? 


THE  HEART  OF  CHUNDA  LAL      209 

Five  of  the  Chinese  sail  with  the  P.  and  O.  boat 
to-night.  AH  Khan  goes  to-morrow,  and  Rama 
Dass,  with  Miguel,  and  the  Andaman.  I  meet  them 
at  Singapore.  But  you?" 

The  woman  raised  her  finger  to  her  lips,  glancing 
fearfully  towards  the  open  door.  But  the  Hindu, 
drawing  her  nearer,  repeated  with  subdued  fierce- 
ness : 

"I  ask  it  again — but  you?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  muttered  the  woman,  keeping 
her  head  lowered  and  moving  in  the  direction  of  the 
steps. 

But  Chunda  Lai  intercepted  her. 

"Stop!"  he  said — "not  yet  are  you  going.  There 
is  something  I  have  to  speak  to  you." 

"Ssh!"  she  whispered,  half  turning  and  pointing 
up  toward  the  door. 

"Those !"  said  the  Hindu  contemptuously — "the 
poor  slaves  of  the  black  smoke !  Ah!  they  are  float- 
ing in  their  dream  paradise ;  they  have  no  ears  to 
hear,  no  eyes  to  see !"  He  grasped  her  wrist  again. 
"They  contest  for  shadow  smiles  and  dream  kisses, 
but  Chunda  Lai  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear. 
He  dream,  too,  but  of  lips  more  sweet  than  honey, 
of  a  voice  like  the  Song  of  the  Daood!  Inshalla!" 

Suddenly  he  clutched  the  grey  hair  of  the  bent 
old  woman  and  with  one  angry  jerk  snatched  it 
from  her  head — for  it  was  a  cunning  wig.  Disor- 
dered hair  gleaming  like  bronze  waves  in  the  dim 
lamplight  was  revealed  and  the  great  dark  eyes  of 


2io  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Miska  looked  out  from  the  artificially  haggard  face 
— eyes  wide  open  and  fearful. 

"Bend  not  that  beautiful  body  so,"  whispered 
Chunda  Lai,  "that  is  straight  and  supple  as  the 
willow  branch.  O,  Miska" — his  voice  trembled 
emotionally  and  he  that  had  been  but  a  moment 
since  so  fierce  stood  abashed  before  her — "for  you 
I  become  as  the  meanest  and  the  lowest;  for  you 
I  die!" 

Miska  started  back  from  him  as  a  muffled  outcry 
sounded  in  the  room  beyond  the  half -open  door. 
Chunda  Lai  started  also,  but  almost  immediately 
smiled — and  his  smile  was  tender  as  a  woman's. 

"It  is  the  voice  of  the  black  smoke  that  speaks, 
Miska.  We  are  alone.  Those  are  dead  men  speak- 
ing from  their  tombs." 

"Ah-Fang-Fu  is  in  the  shop,"  whispered  Miska. 

"And  there  he  remain." 

"But  what  of  ...  him?" 

Miska  pointed  toward  the  eastern  wall  of  the 
room  in  which  they  stood. 

Chunda  Lai  clenched  his  hands  convulsively  and 
turned  his  eyes  in  the  same  direction. 

"It  is  of  him"  he  replied  in  a  voice  of  suppressed 
vehemence,  "it  is  of  him  I  would  speak."  He  bent 
close  to  Miska's  ear.  "In  the  creek,  below  the 
house,  is  lying  the  motor-boat.  I  go  to-day  to  bring 
it  down  for  him.  He  goes  to-night  to  the  other 
house  up  the  river.  To-morrow  I  am  gone.  Only 
you  remaining." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHUNDA  LAL      211 

"Yes,  yes.    He  also  leaves  England  to-morrow." 

"And  you?" 

"I  go  with  him,"  she  whispered. 

Chunda  Lai  glanced  apprehensively  toward  the 
door.  Then : 

"Do  not  go  with  him!"  he  said,  and  sought  to 
draw  Miska  into  his  arms.  "O,  light  of  my  eyes, 
do  not  go  with  him!" 

Miska  repulsed  him,  but  not  harshly. 

"No,  no,  it  is  no  good,  Chunda  Lai.  I  cannot 
hear  you." 

"You  think" — the  Hindu's  voice  was  hoarse  with 
emotion — "that  he  will  trace  you — and  kill  you?" 

"Trace  me !"  exclaimed  Miska  with  sudden  scorn. 
"Is  it  necessary  for  him  to  trace  me?  Am  I  not 
already  dead  except  for  him!  Would  I  be  his 
servant,  his  lure,  his  slave  for  one  little  hour,  for 
one  short  minute,  if  my  life  was  my  own!" 

Beads  of  perspiration  gleamed  upon  the  brown 
forehead  of  the  Hindu,  and  his  eyes  turned  from  the 
door  to  the  eastern  wall  and  back  again  to  Miska. 
He  was  torn  by  conflicting  desires,  but  suddenly 
came  resolution. 

"Listen,  then."  His  voice  was  barely  audible.  "If 
I  tell  you  that  your  life  is  your  own — if  I  reveal 
to  you  a  secret  which  I  learned  in  the  house  of 
Abdul  Rozan  in  Cairo " 

Miska  watched  him  with  eyes  in  which  a  new,  a 
wild  expression  was  dawning. 

"If  I  tell  you  that  life  and  not  death  awaits  you, 


212  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

will  you  come  away  to-night,  and  we  sail  for  India 
to-morrow!  Ah!  I  have  money!  Perhaps  I  am 
rich  as  well  as — someone;  perhaps  /  can  buy  you 
the  robes  of  a  princess" — he  drew  her  swiftly  to  him 
— "and  cover  those  white  arms  with  jewels." 

Miska  shrank  from  him. 

"All  this  means  nothing,"  she  said.  "How  can 
the  secret  of  Abdul  Rozan  help  me  to  live!  And 
you — you  will  be  dead  before  I  die — yes !  One  little 
hour  after  he  finds  out  that  we  go !" 

"Listen  again,"  hissed  Chunda  Lai  intensely. 
"Promise  me,  and  I  will  open  for  you  a  gate  of  life. 
For  you,  Miska,  I  will  do  it,  and  we  shall  be  free. 
He  will  never  find  out.  He  shall  not  be  living  to 
find  out !" 

"No,  no,  Chunda  Lai,"  she  moaned.  "You  have 
been  my  only  friend,  and  I  have  tried  to  forget  .  .  ." 

"I  will  forswear  Kali  for  ever,"  he  said  fervently, 
"and  shed  no  blood  for  all  my  life !  I  will  live  for 
you  alone  and  be  your  slave." 

"It  is  no  good.    I  cannot,  Chunda  Lai,  I  cannot." 

"Miska!"  he  pleaded  tenderly. 

"No,  no,"  she  repeated,  her  voice  quivering — "I 
cannot  .  .  .  Oh!  do  not  ask  it;  I  cannot!" 

She  picked  up  the  hideous  wig,  moving  towards 
the  door.  Chunda  Lai  watched  her,  clenching  his 
hands ;  and  his  eyes,  which  had  been  so  tender,  grew 
fierce. 

"Ah!"  he  cried — "and  it  may  be  I  knosw  a 
reason !" 


THE  HEART  OF  CHUNDA  LAL      213 

She  stopped,  glancing  back  at  him. 

"It  may  be,"  he  continued,  and  his  repressed 
violence  was  terrible,  "it  may  be  that  I,  whose  heart 
is  never  sleeping,  have  seen  and  heard !  One  night" 
—he  crept  towards  her — "one  night  when  I  cry 
the  warning  that  the  Doctor  Sahib  returns  to  his 
house,  you  do  not  come !  He  goes  in  at  the  house, 
and  you  remain.  But  at  last  you  come,  and  I  see 
in  your  eyes " 

"Oh !"  breathed  Miska,  watching  him  fearfully. 

"Do  I  not  see  it  in  your  eyes  now  1  Never  before 
have  I  thought  so  until  you  go  to  that  house,  never 
before  have  you  escaped  from  my  care  as  here  in 
London.  Twice  again  I  have  doubted,  and  because 
there  was  other  work  to  do  I  have  been  helpless  to 
find  out.  To-night" — he  stood  before  her,  glaring 
madly  into  her  face — "I  think  so  again — that  you 
have  gone  to  him.  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  Chunda  Lai !"  cried  Miska  piteously  and 
extended  her  hands  towards  him.  "No,  no — do  not 
say  it !" 

"So!"  he  whispered — "I  understand!  You  risk 
so  much  for  him — for  me  you  risk  nothing!  If  he 
— the  Doctor  Sahib — say  to  you:  'Come  with  me, 
Miska ' " 

"No,  no!  Can  I  never  have  one  friend  in  all 
the  world !  I  hear  you  call,  Chunda  Lai,  but  I  am 
burning  the  envelope  and — Doctor  Stuart — finds 
me.  I  am  trapped.  You  know  it  is  so." 

"I  know  you  say  so.   And  because  he — Fo-Hi— 


214  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

is  not  sure  and  because  of  the  piece  of  the  scorpion 
which  you  find  there,  we  go  to  that  house — he  and 
I — and  we  fail  in  what  we  go  for."  Chunda  Lai's 
hands  dropped  limply  to  his  sides.  "Ah!  I  cannot 
understand,  Miska.  If  we  are  not  sure  then,  are  we 
sure  now?  It  may  be" — he  bent  towards  her — "we 
are  trapped!" 

"Oh,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"We  do  not  know  how  much  the  Frenchman 
learns.  We  do  not  know  how  much  they  read  of 
what  he  had  written.  Why  do  we  wait  ?" 

"He  has  some  plan,  Chunda  Lai,"  replied  Miska 
wearily.  "Does  he  ever  fail?" 

Her  words  rekindled  the  Hindu's  ardour;  his 
eyes  lighted  up  anew. 

"I  tell  you  his  plan,"  he  whispered  tensely.  "Oh  1 
you  shall  hear  me !  He  watch  you  grow  from  a  little 
lovely  child,  as  he  watch  his  death-spiders  and  his 
grey  scorpions  grow !  He  tend  you  and  care  for  you 
and  make  you  perfect,  and  he  plan  for  you  as  he  plan 
for  his  other  creatures.  Then,  he  see  what  I  see, 
that  you  are  not  only  his  servant  but  also  a  woman 
and  that  you  have  a  woman's  heart.  He  learn — who 
think  he  knows  all — that  he,  too,  is  not  yet  a  spirit 
but  only  a  man,  and  have  a  man's  heart,  a  man's 
blood,  a  man's  longings !  It  is  because  of  the  Doctor 
Sahib  that  he  learn  it " 

He  grasped  Miska  again,  but  she  struggled  to 
elude  him.  "Oh,  let  me  go!"  she  pleaded.  "It  is 
madness  you  speak !" 


THE  HEART  OF  CHUNDA  LAL      215 

"It  is  madness,  yes — for  you !  Always  I  have 
watched,  always  I  have  waited;  and  I  also  have 
seen  you  bloom  like  a  rose  in  the  desert.  To-night 
I  am  here — watching  .  .  .  and  he  know  it !  To- 
morrow I  am  gone !  Do  you  stay,  for — him?" 

"Oh,"  she  whispered  fearfully,  "it  cannot  be." 

"You  say  true  when  you  say  I  have  been  your 
only  friend,  Miska.  To-morrow  he  plan  that  you 
have  no  friend." 

He  released  her,  and  slowly,  from  the  sleeve 
of  his  coat,  slipped  into  view  the  curved  blade  of  a 
native  knife. 

"Ali  Khan  Bhal  Salam!"  he  muttered — by  which 
formula  he  proclaimed  himself  a  Thug! 

Rolling  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  eastern 
wall,  he  concealed  the  knife. 

"Chunda  Lai!"  Miska  spoke  wildly.  "I  am 
frightened !  Please  let  me  go,  and  to-morrow " 

"To-morrow !"  Chunda  Lai  raised  his  eyes,  which 
were  alight  with  the  awful  light  of  fanaticism.  "For 
me  there  may  be  no  to-morrow!  Jey  Bhowdm! 
Yah  Allah!" 

"Oh,  he  may  hear  you!"  whispered  Miska  piti- 
fully. "Please  go  now.  I  shall  know  that  you  are 

near  me,  if " 

"And  then?" 

"I  will  ask  your  aid." 

Her  voice  was  very  low. 

"And  if  it  is  written  that  I  succeed?" 

Miska  averted  her  head. 


216  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Oh,  Chunda  Lai  ...  I  cannot." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Chunda  Lai  stood  watching  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  then  he  turned  toward  the  cellar  door,  and 
then  again  to  Miska.  Suddenly  he  dropped  upor 
one  knee  before  her,  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it, 
gently. 

"I  am  your  slave,"  he  said,  his  voice  shaken  with 
emotion.  "For  myself  I  ask  nothing — only  your 
pity." 

He  rose,  opened  the  door  by  which  Miska  had 
entered  the  room  and  went  down  into  the  cellars. 
She  watched  him  silently,  half  fearfully,  yet  her 
eyes  were  filled  with  compassionate  tears.  Then, 
readjusting  the  hideous  grey  wig,  she  went  up  the 
steps  and  passed  through  the  doorway  into  the  den 
of  the  opium  smokers. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  SCAR 

STUART  read  through  a  paper,  consisting  of  six 
closely  written  pages,  then  he  pinned  the  sheets 
together,  folded  them  and  placed  them  in  one 
of  those  long  envelopes  associated  in  his  memory 
with  the  opening  phase  of  "The  Scorpion"  mystery. 
Smiling  grimly,  he  descended  to  his  dispensary  and 
returned  with  the  Chinese  coin  attached  to  the  cork. 
With  this  he  sealed  the  envelope. 

He  had  volunteered  that  night  for  onerous  ser- 
vice, and  his  offer  had  been  accepted.  Gaston 
Max's  knowledge  of  Eastern  languages  was  slight, 
whilst  Stuart's  was  sound  and  extensive,  and  the 
Frenchman  had  cordially  welcomed  the  doctor's 
proposal  that  he  should  accompany  him  to  the  house 
of  Ah-Fang-Fu.  Reviewing  the  facts  gleaned  from 
Miska  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening,  Stuart 
perceived  that,  apart  from  the  additional  light  which 
they  shed  upon  her  own  relations  with  the  group, 
they  could  be  of  slight  assistance  to  the  immediate 
success  of  the  inquiry — unless  the  raid  failed.  There- 
fore he  had  determined  upon  the  course  which  now 
he  was  adopting. 

As  he  completed  the  sealing  of  the  envelope  and 
laid  it  down  upon  the  table,  he  heard  a  cab  drawn 

217 


218  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

up  in  front  of  the  house,  and  presently  Mrs. 
M'Gregor  knocked  and  entered  the  study. 

"Inspector  Dunbar  to  see  you,  Mr.  Keppel,"  she 
said — "and  he  has  with  him  an  awful-looking  body, 
all  cuts  and  bandages.  A  patient,  no  doubt." 

Stuart  stood  up,  wondering  what  this  could  mean. 

"Will  you  please  show  them  in,  Mrs.  M'Gregor," 
he  replied. 

A  few  moments  later  Dunbar  entered,  accom- 
panied by  a  bearded  man  whose  head  was  bandaged 
so  as  partly  to  cover  one  eye  and  who  had  an  evil- 
looking  scar  running  from  his  cheekbone,  apparently 
— or  at  any  rate  from  the  edge  of  the  bandage — to 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  so  that  the  lip  was  drawn 
up  in  a  fierce  and  permanent  snarl. 

At  this  person  Stuart  stared  blankly,  until  Dunbar 
began  to  laugh. 

"It's  a  wonderful  make-up,  isn't  it?"  he  said.  "I 
used  to  say  that  disguises  were  out  of  date,  but  M. 
Max  has  taught  me  I  was  wrong." 

"Max !"  cried  Stuart. 

"At  your  service,"  replied  the  apparition,  "but 
for  this  evening  only  I  am  'Le  Balafre.'  Yes,  par- 
dieu!  I  am  a  real  dead  man!" 

The  airy  indifference  with  which  he  proclaimed 
hJmself  to  represent  one  whose  awful  body  had  but 
that  day  been  removed  from  a  mortuary,  and  one 
whom  in  his  own  words  he  had  "had  the  misfortune 
to  strangle,"  was  rather  ghastly  and  at  the  same  time 
admirable.  For  "Le  Balafre"  had  delibertely  tried 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  SCAR         219 

to  murder  him,  and  false  sentiment  should  form  no 
part  of  the  complement  of  a  criminal  investigator. 

"It  is  a  daring  idea,"  said  Stuart,  "and  relies  for 
its  success  upon  the  chance  that  'The  Scorpion' 
remains  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  his  agent  and  con- 
tinues to  believe  that  the  body  found  off  Hanover 
Hole  was  yours." 

"The  admirable  precautions  of  my  clever  col- 
league," replied  Max,  laying  his  hand  upon  Dunbar's 
shoulder,  "in  closing  the  mortuary  and  publishing 
particulars  of  the  identification  disk,  made  it  per- 
fectly safe.  'Le  Balafre'  has  been  in  hiding.  He 
emerges !" 

Stuart  had  secret  reasons  for  knowing  that  Max's 
logic  was  not  at  fault,  and  this  brought  him  to  the 
matter  of  the  sealed  paper.  He  took  up  the  envelope. 

"I  have  here,"  he  said  slowly,  "a  statement. 
Examine  the  seal." 

He  held  it  out,  and  Max  and  Dunbar  looked  at  it. 
The  latter  laughed  shortly. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  real  statement,"  continued  Stuart, 
"the  nature  of  which  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  divulge. 
But  as  to-night  we  take  risks,  I  propose  to  leave  it  in 
your  charge,  Inspector." 

He  handed  the  envelope  to  Dunbar,  whose  face 
was  blank  with  astonishment. 

"In  the  event  of  failure  to-night,"  added  Stuart, 
"or  catastrophe,  I  authorise  you  to  read  this  state- 
ment— and  act  upon  it.  If,  however,  I  escape  safely, 
I  ask  you  to  return  it  to  me,  unread." 


220  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Eh  bien"  said  Max,  and  fixed  that  eye  the  whole 
of  which  was  visible  upon  Stuart.  "Perhaps  I 
understand,  and  certainly" — he  removed  his  hand 
from  Dunbar's  shoulder  and  rested  it  upon  that  of 
Stuart — "but  certainly,  my  friend,  I  sympathise!" 

Stuart  started  guiltily,  but  Max  immediately 
turned  aside  and  began  to  speak  about  their  plans. 

"In  a  bag  which  Inspector  Dunbar  has  thought- 
fully left  in  the  cab,"  he  said 

Dunbar  hastily  retired  and  Max  laughed. 

"In  that  bag,"  he  continued,  "is  a  suit  of  clothes 
such  as  habitues  of  'The  Pidgin  House'  rejoice  to 
wear.  I,  who  have  studied  disguise  almost  as  deeply 
as  the  great  Willy  Clarkson,  will  transform  you  into 
a  perfect  ruffian.  It  is  important,  you  understand, 
that  someone  should  be  inside  the  house  of  Ah- 
Fang-Fu,  as  otherwise  by  means  of  some  secret 
exit  the  man  we  seek  may  escape.  I  believe  that  he 
contemplates  departing  at  any  moment,  and  I  believe 
that  the  visit  of  Miguel  means  that  what  I  may 
term  the  masters  of  the  minor  lodges  are  coming  to 
London  for  parting  instructions — or,  of  course, 
Miguel  may  have  come  about  the  disappearance  of 
'Le  BalafreV  " 

"Suppose  you  meet  Miguel !" 

"My  dear  friend,  I  must  trust  to  the  Kismet  who 
pursues  evil-doers!  The  only  reason  which  has  led 
me  to  adopt  this  daring  disguise  is  a  simple  one. 
Although  I  believe  The  Pidgin  House*  to  be  open 
to  ordinary  opium-smokers,  it  may  not  be  open  on 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  SCAR         221 

'lodge  nights.'  Do  you  follow  me?  Very  well.  I 
have  the  golden  scorpion — which  I  suppose  to  be 
a  sort  of  passport." 

Stuart  wondered  more  and  more  at  the  reasoning 
powers  of  this  remarkable  man,  which  could  lead 
him  to  such  an  accurate  conclusion. 

"The  existence  of  such  a  passport,"  continued 
Max,  "would  seem  to  point  to  the  fact  that  all  the 
members  of  this  organisation  are  not  known  per- 
sonally to  one  another.  At  the  same  time  those  in- 
vited or  expected  at  present  may  be  known  to  Ah- 
Fang-Fu  or  to  whoever  acts  as  concierge.  You  see  ? 
Expected  or  otherwise,  I  assume  that  'Le  Balafre' 
would  be  admitted — and  at  night  I  shall  pass  very 
well  for  'Le  Balafre' — somewhat  damaged  as  a 
result  of  my  encounter  with  the  late  Charles  Malet, 
but  still  recognisable!" 

"And  I?" 

"You  will  be  'franked'  in.  The  word  of  'Le 
Balafre'  should  be  sufficient  for  that !  Of  course  I 
may  be  conducted  immediately  into  the  presence  of 
the  Chief — 'The  Scorpion' — and  he  may  prove  to  be 
none  other  than  Miguel,  for  instance — or  my  Al- 
gerian acquaintance — or  may  even  be  a  'she' — the 
fascinating  Zara  el-Khala !  We  do  not  know.  But  I 
think — oh,  decidedly  I  think — that  the  cowled  one 
is  a  male  creature,  and  his  habits  and  habitat  sug- 
gests to  me  that  he  is  a  Chinaman." 

"And  in  that  event  how  shall  you  act?" 

"At  once !  I  shall  hold  him,  if  I  can,  or  shoot  him, 


222  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

if  I  cannot  hold  him!  Both  of  us  will  blow  police- 
whistles  with  which  we  "shall  be  provided  and  In- 
spectors Dunbar  and  Kelly  will  raid  the  premises. 
But  I  am  hoping  for  an  interval.  I  do  not  like  these 
inartistic  scrimmages  I  The  fact  that  these  people 
foregather  at  an  opium-house  suggests  to  me  that  a 
certain  procedure  may  be  followed  which  I  observed 
during  the  course  of  the  celebrated  'Mr.  Q.'  case  in 
New  York.  'Mr.  Q.'  also  had  an  audience-chamber 
adjoining  an  opium-den,  and  his  visitors  went  there 
ostensibly  to  smoke  opium.  The  opium-den  was  a 
sort  of  anteroom." 

"Weymouth's  big  Chinese  case  had  similar  feat- 
ures," said  Inspector  Dunbar,  who  re-entered  at  that 
moment  carrying  a  leathern  grip.  "If  you  are  kept 
waiting  and  you  keep  your  ears  open,  doctor,  that's 
when  your  knowledge  of  the  lingo  will  come  in  use- 
ful. We  might  rope  in  the  whole  gang  and  find  we 
hadn't  a  scrap  of  evidence  against  them,  for  except 
the  attempt  on  yourself,  Dr.  Stuart,  there's  nothing 
so  far  that  I  can  see  to  connect  'The  Scorpion'  with 
Sir  Frank  Narcombe!" 

"It  is  such  a  bungle  that  I  fear!"  cried  Max. 
"Ah!  how  this  looped-up  lip  annoys  me!"  He 
adjusted  the  bandage  carefully. 

"We've  got  the  place  comfortably  surrounded," 
continued  Dunbar,  "and  whoever  may  be  inside  is 
booked !  A  lady,  answering  to  the  description  of 
M'le.  Dorian,  went  in  this  evening,  so  Sowerby 
reports." 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  SCAR         223 

Stuart  felt  that  he  was  changing  colour,  and  he 
stooped  hastily  to  inspect  the  contents  of  the  bag 
which  Dunbar  had  opened. 

"Eh  bien!"  said  Gaston  Max.  "We  shall  not  go 
empty-handed,  then.  And  now  to  transfigure  you, 
my  friend!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN 

INTERRUPTING  a  spell  of  warm,  fine  weather 
the  night  had  set  in  wet  and  stormy.  The  squalid 
streets  through  which  Stuart  and  Gaston  Max 
made  their  way  looked  more  than  normally  deserted 
and  uninviting.     The  wind  moaned  and  the  rain 
accompanied  with  a  dreary  tattoo.     Sometimes  a 
siren  wailed  out  upon  the  river. 

"We  are  nearly  there,"  said  Max.  "Pardieu!  they 
are  well  concealed,  those  fellows.  I  have  not  seen 
so  much  as  an  eyebrow." 

"It  would  be  encouraging  to  get  a  glimpse  of  some 
one !"  replied  Stuart. 

"Ah,  but  bad — inartistic.  It  is  the  next  door,  I 
think  .  .  .  yes.  I  hope  they  have  no  special  way 
of  knocking." 

Upon  the  door  of  a  dark  and  apparently  deserted 
shop  he  rapped. 

Both  had  anticipated  an  interval  of  waiting,  and 
both  were  astonished  when  the  door  opened  almost 
at  once,  revealing  a  blackly  cavernous  interior. 

"Go  off!  Too  late!  Shuttee  shop!"  chattered  & 
voice  out  of  the  darkness. 

Max  thrust  his  way  resolutely  in,  followed  by 
Stuart.  "Shut  the  door,  Ah-Fang-Fu!"  he  said 

224 


IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN  225 

eurtly,   speaking  with  a  laboured   French  accent. 
"Scorpion!" 

The  door  was  closed  by  the  invisible  Chinaman, 
there  was  a  sound  of  soft  movements  and  a  hurri- 
cane-lantern suddenly  made  its  appearance.  Its  light 
revealed  the  interior  of  a  nondescript  untidy  little 
shop  and  revealed  the  presence  of  an  old  and  very 
wrinkled  Chinaman  who  held  the  lantern.  He  wore 
a  blue  smock  and  a  bowler  hat  and  his  face  possessed 
the  absolute  impassivity  of  an  image.  As  he  leaned 
over  the  counter,  scrutinising  his  visitors,  Max 
thrust  forward  the  golden  scorpion  held  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand. 

"Hoi,  hoi!"  chattered  the  Chinaman,  "Fo-Hi 
fellers,  eh?  You  hab  got  plenty  much  late.  Other 
fellers  Fo-Hi  pidgin  plenty  much  sooner.  You  one 
time  catchee  allee  same  bhobbery,  b'long  number 
one  joss-pidgin  man!" 

Being  covertly  nudged  by  Max: 

"Cut  the  palaver,  Pidgin,"  growled  Stuart. 

"Allee  lightee,"  chattered  Ah-Fang-Fu,  for  evi- 
dently this  was  he.  "You  play  one  piecee  pipee  till 
Fo-Hi  got."  Raising  the  lantern,  he  led  the  way 
through  a  door  at  the  back  of  the  shop.  Descending 
four  wooden  steps,  Stuart  and  Max  found  them- 
selves in  the  opium-den. 

"Full  up.  No  loom,"  said  the  Chinaman. 

It  was  a  low-ceiled  apartment,  the  beams  of  the 
roof  sloping  slightly  upward  from  west  to  east.  The 
centre  part  of  the  wall  at  the  back  was  covered  with 


226  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

matting  hung  from  the  rough  cornice  supporting  the 
beams.  To  the  right  of  the  matting  was  the  door 
communicating  with  the  shop,  and  to  the  left  were 
bunks.  Other  bunks  lined  the  southerly  wall,  except 
where,  set  in  the  thickness  of  the  bare  brick  and 
plaster,  a  second  strong  door  was  partly  hidden  by 
a  pile  of  empty  packing-cases  and  an  untidy  litter 
of  straw  and  matting. 

Along  the  northern  wall  were  more  bunks,  and 
an  open  wooden  stair,  with  a  handrail,  ascended  to 
a  small  landing  or  platform  before  a  third  door  high 
up  in  the  wall.  A  few  mats  were  strewn  about  the 
floor.  The  place  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  red-shaded 
lamp  swung  from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  and  near 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  another  lamp  (of  the  common 
tin  variety)  stood  upon  a  box  near  which  was  a 
broken  cane  chair.  Opium-pipes,  tins,  and  a  pack 
of  cards  were  on  this  box. 

All  the  bunks  appeared  to  be  occupied.  Most  of 
the  occupants  were  lying  motionless,  but  one  or  two 
were  noisily  sucking  at  the  opium-pipes.  These  had 
not  yet  attained  to  the  opium-smokers'  Nirvana.  So 
much  did  Gaston  Max,  a  trained  observer,  gather  in 
one  swift  glance.  Then  Ah-Fang-Fu,  leaving  the 
lantern  in  the  shop,  descended  the  four  steps  and 
crossing  the  room  began  to  arrange  two  mats  with 
round  head-cushions  near  to  the  empty  packing- 
cases.  Stuart  and  Max  remained  by  the  door. 

"You  see,"  whispered  Max,  "he  has  taken  you 
on  trust!  And  he  did  not  appear  to  recognize  me. 


IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN  227 

It  is  as  I  thought.  The  place  is  'open  to  the  public* 
as  usual,  and  Ah-Fang  does  a  roaring  trade,  one 
would  judge.  For  the  benefit  of  patrons  not  affiliated 
to  the  order  we  have  to  pretend  to  smoke." 

"Yes,"  replied  Stuart  with  repressed  excitement 
— "until  someone  called  Fo-Hi  is  at  home,  or  visible  ; 
the  word  'got'  may  mean  either  of  those  things." 

"Fo-Hi,"  whispered  Max,  "is  'The  Scorpion'!" 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Stuart — who  had 
good  reason  to  know  it.  "My  God !  what  a  foul 
den !  The  reek  is  suffocating.  Look  at  that  yellow 
lifeless  face  yonder,  and  see  that  other  fellow  whose 
hand  hangs  limply  down  upon  the  floor.  Those 
bunks  might  be  occupied  by  corpses  for  all  the  evi- 
dence of  life  that  some  of  them  show." 

"Morbleu!  do  not  raise  your  voice;  for  some  of 
them  are  occupied  by  'Scorpions/  You  noted  the 
words  of  Ah-Fang?  Ssh!" 

The  old  Chinaman  returned  with  his  curious 
shuffling  walk,  raising  his  hand  to  beckon  to  them. 

"Number  one  piece  bunk,  lo!"  he  chattered. 

"Good  enough,"  growled   Stuart. 

The  two  crossed  and  reclined  upon  the  uncleanly 
mats. 

"Make  special  loom,"  explained  Ah-Fang-Fu. 
"Velly  special  chop!" 

He  passed  from  bunk  to  bunk,  and  presently  came 
to  a  comatose  Chinaman  from  whose  limp  hand, 
which  hung  down  upon  the  floor,  the  pipe  had 
dropped.  This  pipe  Ah-Fang-Fu  took  from  the 


228  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

smoker's  fingers  and  returning  to  the  box  upon 
which  the  tin  lamp  was  standing  began  calmly  to 
load  it. 

"Good  heavens!"  muttered  Stuart — "he  is  short 
of  pipes!  Pah!  how  the  place  reeks!" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  busied  himself  with  a  tin  of  opium, 
the  pipe  which  he  had  taken  from  the  sleeper,  and 
another  pipe — apparently  the  last  of  his  stock — 
which  lay  near  the  lamp.  Igniting  the  two,  he 
crossed  and  handed  them  to  Stuart  and  Max. 

"Velly  soon — lo!"  he  said,  and  made  a  curious 
sign,  touching  his  brow,  his  lips  and  his  breast  in  a 
manner  resembling  that  of  a  Moslem. 

Max  repeated  the  gesture  and  then  lay  back  upon 
his  elbow,  raising  the  mouthpiece  of  the  little  pipe 
to  his  lips — but  carefully  avoiding  contact. 

Ah-Fang-Fu  shuffled  back  to  the  broken  cane 
chair,  from  which  he  had  evidently  arisen  to  admit 
his  late  visitors. 

Inarticulate  sounds  proceeded  from  the  bunks, 
breaking  the  sinister  silence  which  now  descended 
upon  the  den.  Ah-Fang-Fu  began  to  play  Patience, 
constantly  muttering  to  himself.  The  occasional 
wash  of  tidal  water  became  audible,  and  once  there 
came  a  scampering  and  squealing  of  rats  from  be- 
neath the  floor. 

"Do  you  notice  the  sound  of  lapping  water" 
whispered  Stuart.  "The  place  is  evidently  built 
upon  a  foundation  of  piles  and  the  cellars  must 
actually  be  submerged  at  high-tide." 


IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN  229 

"Pardieu!  it  is  a  death  trap.    What  is  this!" 

A  loud  knocking  sounded  upon  the  street  door. 
Ah-Fang-Fu  rose  and  shuffled  up  the  steps  into  the 
shop.  He  could  be  heard  unbarring  the  outer  door. 
Then: 

"Too  late!  shuttee  shop,  shuttee  shopl"  sounded. 

"I  don't  want  nothin'  out  of  your  blasted  shop, 
Pidgin !"  roared  a  loud  and  thick  voice  "I'm  old 
Bill  Bean,  I  am,  and  I  want  a  pipe,  I  do !" 

"Hullo,  Bill!"  replied  the  invisible  'Pidgin/ 
"Alice  samee  dlunk  again!" 

A  red-bearded  ship's  fireman,  wearing  sea-boots,  a, 
rough  blue  suit  similar  to  that  which  Stuart  wore,  a 
muffler  and  a  peaked  cap,  lurched  into  view  at  the 
head  of  the  steps. 

"Blimey !"  he  roared,  over  his  shoulder.  "Drunk ! 
Me  drunk!  An'  all  the  pubs  in  these  parts  sell 
barley-water  coloured  brown!  Blimey!  Chuck  it, 
Pidgin !" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  reappeared  behind  him.  "Catchee 
dlunk  ev'ly  time  for  comee  here,"  he  chattered. 

"  'Tain't  'umanly  possible,"  declared  the  new 
arrival,  staggering  down  the  steps,  "fer  a  'ealthy 
sailorman  to  git  drunk  on  coloured  water  just  'cause 
the  publican  calls  it  beer!  I  ain't  drunk;  I'm  only 
miserable.  Gimme  a  pipe,  Pidgin." 

Ah-Fang-Fu  barred  the  door  and  ascended. 

"Comee  here,"  he  muttered,  "my  placee,  all  full 
up  and  no  other  placee  b'long  open." 

Bill  Bean  slapped  him  boisterously  on  the  back. 


230  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Cut  the  palaver,  Pidgin,  and  gimme  a  pipe. 
Piecee  pipe,  Pidgin!" 

He  lurched  across  the  floor,  nearly  falling  over 
Stuart's  legs,  took  up  a  mat  and  a  cushion,  lurched 
into  the  further  corner  and  cast  himself  down. 

"Ain't  I  one  o'  yer  oldest  customers,  Pidgin?" 
he  inquired.  "One  o'  yer  oldest  I  am." 

"Blight  side  twelve-time,"  muttered  the  China- 
man. "Getchee  me  in  tlouble,  Bill.  Number  one 
police  chop." 

"Not  the  first  time  it  wouldn't  be !"  retorted  the 
fireman.  "Not  the  first  time  as  you've  been  in 
trouble,  Pidgin.  An'  unless  they  'ung  yer — which  it 
ain't  'umanly  possible  to  'ang  a  Chink — it  wouldn't 
be  the  last — an'  not  by  a  damn  long  way  .  .  .  an' 
not  by  a  damn  long  way !" 

Ah-Fang-Fu,  shrugging  resignedly,  shuffled  from 
bunk  to  bunk  in  quest  of  a  disused  pipe,  found  one, 
and  returning  to  the  extemporised  table,  began  to 
load  it,  muttering  to  himself. 

"Don't  like  to  'ear  about  your  wicked  past,  do 
you?"  continued  Bill.  "Wicked  old  yellow-faced 
'eathen!  Remember  the  'dive'  in  'Frisco,  Pidgin? 
Wot  a  rough  'ouse !  Remember  when  I  come  in — 
full  up  I  was :  me  back  teeth  well  under  water — an* 
you  tried  to  Shanghai  me?" 

"You  cutee  palaber.  All  damn  lie,"  muttered  the 
Chinaman. 

"Ho !  a  lie  is  it  ?"  roared  the  other.  "Wot  about 
me  wakin'  up  all  of  a  tremble  aboard  o'  the  old 


IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN  231 

Nancy  Lee — aboard  of  a  blasted  wind-jammer! 
Me — a  fireman!  Wot  about  it?  Wasn't  that  Shang- 
haiin'?  Blighter!  An'  not  a  'oat'  in  me  pocket — 
not  a  'bean'!  Broke  to  the  wide  an'  aboard  of  a 
old  wind-jammer  wot  was  a  coffin-ship — a  coffin- 
ship  she  was;  an'  'er  old  man  was  the  devil's 
father-in-law.  Ho !  lies !  I  don't  think" 

"You  cutee  palaber !"  chattered  Ah-Fang-Fu,  busy 
with  the  pipe.  "You  likee  too  much  chin-chin.  You 
makee  nice  piecee  bhobbery." 

"Not  a  'bean,'  "  continued  Bill  reminiscently — 
"not  a  'oat.'  "  He  sat  up  violently.  "Even  me  pipe 
an'  baccy  was  gone!"  he  shouted.  "You'd  even 
pinched  me  pipe  an'  baccy !  You'd  pinch  the  whis- 
kers off  a  blind  man,  you  would,  Pidgin !  'And  over 
the  dope.  Thank  Gawd  somebody's  still  the  right 
stuff !" 

Suddenly,  from  a  bunk  on  the  left  of  Gaston  Max 
came  a  faint  cry. 

"Ah!    He  has  bitten  me!" 

'"Ullo!"  said  Bill— "wotcher  bin  given'  'ivn, 
Pidgin?  Chandu  or  hydrerphobia ?" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  crossed  and  handed  him  the  pipe. 

"One  piecee  pipee.    No  more  hab." 

Bill  grasped  the  pipe  eagerly  and  raised  it  to  his 
lips.  Ah-Fang-Fu  returned  unmoved  to  his  Pa- 
tience and  silence  reclaimed  the  den,  only  broken  by 
the  inarticulate  murmurings  and  the  lapping  of  the 
tide. 

"A  genuine  customer!"  whispered  Max. 


232  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Ah!"  came  again,  more  faintly — "he  .  .  .  has 
.  .  .  bitten  .  .  .  me." 

"Blimey!"  said  Bill  Bean  in  a  drowsy  voice — 
"  'eave  the  chair  at  'im,  Pidgin." 

Stuart  was  about  to  speak  when  Gaston  Max 
furtively  grasped  his  arm.  "Ssh!"  he  whispered. 
"Do  not  move,  but  look  .  .  .  at  the  top  of  the  stair !" 

Stuart  turned  his  eyes.  On  the  platform  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  a  Hindu  was  standing! 

"Chunda  Lai !"  whispered  Max.  "Prepare  for — 
anything !" 

Chunda  Lai  descended  slowly.  Ah-Fang-Fu  con- 
tinued to  pJay  Patience.  The  Hindu  stood  behind 
him  and  began  to  speak  in  a  voice  of  subdued  fer- 
vour and  with  soft  Hindu  modulations. 

"Why  do  you  allow  them,  strangers,  coming  here 
to-night !" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  continued  complacently  to  arrange 
the  cards. 

"S'pose  hab  gotchee  pidgin  allee  samee  Chunda 
Lai  hab  got?  Fo-Hi  no  catchee  buy  bled  and  cheese 
for  Ah-Fang-Fu.  He" — nodding  casually  in  the 
direction  of  Bill  Bean — "plitty  soon  all  blissful." 

"Be  very  careful,  Ah-Fang-Fu,"  said  Chunda  Lai 
tensely.  He  lowered  his  voice.  "Do  you  forget  so 
soon  what  happen  last  week?" 

"No  sabby." 

"Some  one  comes  here — we  do  not  know  how 
close  he  comes;  perhaps  he  comes  in — and  he  is  of 
the  police" 


IN  THE  OPIUM  DEN  233 

^  Fu  shuffled  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"No  p'Kce  chop  for  Pidgin !"  he  muttered.  "Same 
feller  tumble  in  liver?" 

"He  is  killed — yes;  but  suppose  they  find  the 
writing  he  has  made !  Suppose  he  has  written  that 
it  is  here  people  meet  together?" 

"Makee  chit  tella  my  name?  Muchee  hard  luck! 
Number  one  police  chop." 

"You  say  Fo-Hi  not  buying  you  bread  and  cheese. 
Perhaps  it  is  Fo-Hi  that  save  you  from  hanging  1" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  hugged  himself. 

"Yak  pozee!"  (Very  good)  he  muttered. 

Chunda  Lai  raised  his  finger. 

"Be  very  careful,  Ah-Fang-Fu!" 

"Alice  time  velly  careful." 

"But  admit  no  more  of  them  to  come  in,  these 
strangers." 

"Tehee,  tehee!  Velly  ploper.  Sometime  big  feller 
come  in  if  Pidgin  palaber  or  not.  Pidgin  never  lude 
to  big  feller." 

"Your  life  may  depend  on  it,"  said  Chunda  Lai 
impressively.  "How  many  are  here?" 

Ah-Fang-Fu  turned  at  last  from  his  cards,  point- 
ing in  three  directions,  and,  finally,  at  Gaston  Max. 

"Four?"  said  the  Hindu— "how  can  it  be?" 

He  peered  from  bunk  to  bunk,  muttering  some- 
thing— a  name  apparently — after  scrutinising  each. 
When  his  gaze  rested  upon  Max  he  started,  stared 
hard,  and  meeting  the  gaze  of  the  one  visible  eye, 
made  the  strange  sign. 


234  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Max  repeated  it;  and  Chunda  Lai  turned  again 
to  the  Chinaman.  "Because  of  that  drunken  pig," 
he  said,  pointing  at  Bill  Bean — "we  must  wait.  See 
to  it  that  he  is  the  last.'* 

He  walked  slowly  up  the  stairs,  opened  the  door  at 
the  top  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   GREEN-EYED   JOSS 

SINISTER  silence  reclaimed  the  house  of  Ah- 
Fang-Fu.  And  Ah-Fang-Fu  resumed  his  soli- 
tary game. 

"He  recognised  'Le  Balafre' "  whispered  Max — 
"and  was  surprised  to  see  him!  So  there  are  three 
of  the  gang  here !  Did  you  particularly  observe  in 
which  bunks  they  lay,  doctor.  Ssh!" 

A  voice  from  a  bunk  had  commenced  to  sing 
monotonously. 

"Peyala  peak"  it  sang,  weird  above  the  mur- 
mured accompaniment  of  the  other  dreaming 
smokers  and  the  wash-wash  of  the  tide — "To  myn- 
na-peah-Phir  Kysee  ko  kyah  .  .  ." 

"He  is  speaking  from  an  opium-trance,"  said 
Stuart  softly.  "A  native  song:  'If  a  cup  of  wine 
is  drunk,  and  I  have  drunk  it,  what  of  that?'" 

"Mon  Dieu !  it  is  uncanny !"  whispered  Max. 
"Brr!  do  you  hear  those  rats?  I  am  wondering  in 
what  order  we  shall  be  admitted  to  the  'Scorpion's' 
presence,  or  if  we  shall  all  see  him  together." 

"He  may  come  in  here." 

"All  the  better." 

"Gimme  'nother  pipe,  Pidgin,"  drawled  a  very 
drowsy  voice  from  Bill  Bean's  corner. 

235 


236  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Ah-Fang-Fu  left  his  eternal  arranging  and  re- 
arranging of  the  cards  and  crossed  the  room.  He 
took  the  opium-pipe  from  the  fireman's  limp  fingers 
and  returning  to  the  box,  refilled  and  lighted  it. 
Max  and  Stuart  watched  him  in  silence  until  he  had 
handed  the  second  pipe  to  the  man  and  returned  to 
his  chair. 

"We  must  be  very  careful,"  said  Stuart.  "We  do 
not  know  which  are  real  smokers  and  which  are 
not." 

Again  there  was  a  weird  interruption.  A  China- 
man lying  in  one  of  the  bunks  began  to  chant  in  a 
monotonous  far-away  voice : 

"Chong-liou-chouay 
Om  mdni  padme  hum." 

"The  Buddhist  formula,"  whispered  Stuart.  "He 
is  a  real  smoker.  Heavens!  the  reek  is  choking 
me!" 

The  chant  was  repeated,  the  words  dying  away 
into  a  long  murmur.  Ah-Fang-Fu  continued  to 
shuffle  the  cards.  And  presently  Bill  Bean's  second 
pipe  dropped  from  his  fingers.  His  husky  voice 
spoke  almost  inaudibly. 

"I'm  ...  old  ...  Bill  .  .  .  Bean.  ...  I  ..." 

A  deep-noted  siren  hooted  dimly. 

"A  steamer  making  for  dock,"  whispered  Max. 
"Brr!  it  is  a  nightmare,  this!  I  think  in  a  minute 
something  will  happen.  Ssh!" 


THE  GREEN-EYED  JOSS  237 

Ah-Fang-Fu  glanced  slowly  around.  Then  he 
stood  up,  raised  the  lamp  from  the  table  and  made 
a  tour  of  the  bunks,  shining  the  light  in  upon  the 
faces  of  the  occupants.  Max  watched  him  closely, 
hoping  to  learn  in  which  bunks  the  members  of  'The 
Scorpion's  group  lay.  But  he  was  disappointed.  Ah- 
Fang-Fu  examined  all  the  bunks  and  even  shone 
the  light  down  upon  Stuart  and  Max.  He  muttered 
to  himself  constantly,  but  seemed  to  address  no  one. 

Replacing  the  lamp  on  the  box,  he  whistled  softly ; 
and: 

"Look !"  breathed  Max.   "The  stair  again !" 

Stuart  cautiously  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  open 
stair. 

On  the  platform  above  stood  a  bent  old  hag  whose 
witch-eyes  were  searching  the  place  keenly!  With 
a  curiously  lithe  step,  for  all  her  age,  she  descended, 
and  standing  behind  Ah-Fang-Fu  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder  and  pointed  to  the  outer  door.  He  stood 
up  and  shuffled  across,  went  up  the  four  steps  and 
unbarred  the  door. 

"Tehee,  tehee,"  he  chattered.  "Pidgin  make  a 
look-out." 

He  went  out  and  closed  the  door. 

"Something  happens !"  whispered  Max. 

A  gong  sounded. 

"Ah!" 

The  old  woman  approached  the  matting  curtain 
hung  over  a  portion  of  the  wall,  raised  it  slightly 
in  the  centre — where  it  opened — and  disappeared 
beyond. 


238  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"You  see !"  said  Stuart  excitedly. 

"Yes!  it  is  the  audience-chamber  of  'The  Scor- 
pion' !" 

The  ancient  hag  came  out  again,  crossed  to  a  bunk 
and  touched  its  occupant,  a  Chinaman,  with  her 
hand.  He  immediately  got  up  and  followed  her. 
The  two  disappeared  beyond  the  curtain. 

"What  shall  we  do,"  said  Stuart,  "if  you  are 
summoned  ?" 

"I  shall  throw  open  those  curtains  the  moment  I 
reach  them,  and  present  my  pistol  at  the  head  of 
whoever  is  on  the  other  side.  You — ssh!" 

The  old  woman  reappeared,  looked  slowly  around 
and  then  held  the  curtains  slightly  apart  to  allow  of 
the  Chinaman's  coming  out.  He  saluted  her  by 
touching  his  head,  lips  and  breast  with  his  right 
hand,  then  passed  up  to  the  door  communicating 
with  the  shop,  which  he  opened,  and  went  out. 

His  voice  came,  muffled : 

"Fo-Hi!" 

"Fo-Hi,"  returned  the  high  voice  of  Ah-Fang-Fu. 

The  outer  door  was  opened  and  shut.  The  old 
woman  went  up  and  barred  the  inner  door,  then 
returned  and  stood  by  the  matting  curtain.  The 
sound  of  the  water  below  alone  broke  the  silence.. 
It  was  the  hour  of  high  tide. 

"There  goes  the  first  fish  into  Dunbar's  net!" 
whispered  Max. 

The  gong  sounded  again. 

Thereupon   the  old   woman   crossed   to   another 


THE  GREEN-EYED  JOSS  239 

bunk  and  conducted  a  brown-skinned  Eastern  into 
the  hidden  room.  Immediately  they  had  disap- 
peared : 

"As  I  pull  the  curtains  aside,"  continued  Max 
rapidly,  "blow  the  whistle  and  run  across  and  unbar 
the  door.  ..." 

So  engrossed  was  he  in  giving  these  directions, 
and  so  engrossed  was  Stuart  in  listening  to  them, 
that  neither  detected  a  faint  creak  which  proceeded 
from  almost  immediately  behind  them.  This  sound 
was  occasioned  by  the  slow  and  cautious  opening 
of  that  sunken,  heavy  door  near  to  which  they  lay — 
the  door  which  communicated  with  the  labyrinth  of 
cellars.  Inch  by  inch  from  the  opening  protruded 
the  head  of  Ah-Fang-Fu ! 

"If  the  Chinaman  offers  any  resistance,"  Max 
went  on,  speaking  very  rapidly — "morbleu!  you 
have  the  means  to  deal  with  him !  In  a  word,  admit 
the  police.  Ssh!  what  is  that!" 

A  moaning  voice  from  one  of  the  bunks  came. 

"Cheal  kegiir-men,  mas  kd  dheer!" 

"A  native  adage,"  whispered  Stuart.  "He  is 
dreaming.  'There  is  always  meat  in  a  kite's  nest.'  " 

"Eh  bien!  very  true — and  I  think  the  kite  is  at 
home !" 

The  head  of  Ah-Fang-Fu  vanished.  A  moment 
later  the  curtains  opened  again  slightly  and  the  old 
woman  came  out,  ushering  the  brown  man.  He 
saluted  her  and  unbarred  the  door,  going  out. 

"Fo-Hi,"  came  dimly. 


240  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

There  was  no  definite  answer — only  the  sound  of 
a  muttered  colloquy;  and  suddenly  the  brown  man 
returned  and  spoke  to  the  old  woman  in  a  voice 
so  low  that  his  words  were  inaudible  to  the  two 
attentive  listeners  in  the  distant  corner. 

"Ah!"  whispered  Max— "what  now?" 

"Shall  we  rush  the  curtain!"  said  Stuart. 

"No!"  Max  grasped  his  arm — "wait!  wait!  See! 
he  is  going  out.  He  has  perhaps  forgotten  some- 
thing. A  second  fish  in  the  net." 

The  Oriental  went  up  the  steps  into  the  shop.  The 
old  woman  closed  and  barred  the  door,  then  opened 
the  matting  curtain  and  disappeared  within. 

"I  was  right,"  said  Max. 

But  for  once  in  his  career  he  was  wrong. 

She  was  out  again  almost  immediately  and  bend- 
ing over  a  bunk  close  to  the  left  of  the  masked  open- 
ing. The  occupant  concealed  in  its  shadow  did  not 
rise  and  follow  her,  however.  She  seemed  to  be 
speaking  to  him.  Stuart  and  Max  watched  intently. 

The  head  of  Ah-Fang-Fu  reappeared  in  the  door- 
way behind  them. 

"Now  is  our  time !"  whispered  Max  tensely.  "As 
I  rush  for  the  curtains,  you  run  to  the  shop  door 
and  get  it  unbolted,  whistling  for  Dunbar " 

Ah-Fang-Fu,  fully  opening  the  door  behind  them, 
crept  out  stealthily. 

"Have  your  pistol  ready,"  continued  Max,  "and 
first  put  the  whistle  between  your  teeth " 

Ah-Fang-F'4  silently  placed  his  bowler  hat  upon 


THE  GREEN-EYED  JOSS  241 

the  floor,  shook  down  his  long  pigtail,  and  moving 
with  catlike  tread,  stooping,  drew  nearer. 

"Now,  doctor!"  cried  Max. 

Both  sprang  to  their  feet.  Max  leapt  clear  of  the 
matting  and  other  litter  and  dashed  for  the  curtain. 
He  reached  it,  seized  it  and  tore  it  bodily  from  its 
fastenings.  Behind  him  the  long  flat  note  of  a  police 
whistle  sounded — and  ended  abruptely. 

"Ah!   Norn  d'un  nom!"  cried  Max. 

A  cunningly  devised  door — looking  like  a  section 
of  solid  brick  and  plaster  wall — was  closing  slowly 
— heavily.  Through  the  opening  which  yet  remained 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  small  room,  draped  with 
Chinese  dragon  tapestry  and  having  upon  a  raised, 
carpeted  dais  a  number  of  cushions  forming  a 
dlwan  and  an  inlaid  table  bearing  a  silver  snuff 
vase.  A  cowled  figure  was  seated  upon  the  dais. 
The  door  closed  completely.  Within  a  niche  in  its 
centre  sat  a  yellow  leering  idol,  green  eyed  and 
complacent. 

Wild,  gurgling  cries  brought  Max  sharply  about. 

An  answering  whistle  sounded  from  the  street 
outside  ...  a  second  ...  a  third. 

Ah-Fang-Fu,  stooping  ever  lower,  at  the  instant 
that  Stuart  had  sprung  to  his  feet  had  seized  his 
ankle  from  behind,  pitching  him  on  to  his  face.  It 
was  then  that  the  note  of  the  whistle  had  ceased. 
Now,  the  Chinaman  had  his  long  pigtail  about 
Stuart's  neck,  at  which  Stuart,  prone  with  the  other 
kneeling  upon  his  body,  plucked  vainly. 

Max  raised  his  pistol  .   .   .  and  from  the  bunk 


242  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

almost  at  his  elbow  leapt  Miguel  the  quadroon,  a 
sand-bag  raised.  It  descended  upon  the  Frenchman's 
skull  .  .  .  and  he  crumbled  up  limply  and  collapsed 
upon  the  floor.  There  came  a  crash  of  broken  glass 
from  the  shop. 

Uttering  a  piercing  cry,  the  old  woman  staggered 
from  the  door  near  which  she  had  been  standing  as 
if  stricken  helpless,  during  the  lightning  moments  in 
which  these  things  had  happened — and  advanced  in 
the  direction  of  Ah- Fang- Fu. 

"Ah,  God!  You  kill  him!  you  kill  him?"  she 
moaned. 

"Through  the  window,  Sowerby!  This  way!" 
came  Dunbar's  voice.  "Max !  Max !" 

The  sustained  note  of  a  whistle,  a  confusion  of 
voices  and  a  sound  of  heavy  steps  proclaimed  the 
entrance  of  the  police  into  the  shop  and  the  sum- 
moning of  reinforcements. 

Ah-Fang-Fu  rose.  Stuart  had  ceased  to  struggle. 
The  Chinaman  replaced  his  hat  and  looked  up  at  th« 
woman,  whose  eyes  glared  madly  into  his  own. 

"Tche,  tehee"  he  said  sibilantly — "Tchon-dsee-ti 
Fan-Fu."* 

"Down  with  the  door!"  roared  Dunbar. 

The  woman  threw  herself,  with  a  wild  sob,  upon 
the  motionless  body  of  Stuart. 

Ensued  a  series  of  splintering  crashes,  and  finally 
the  head  of  an  axe  appeared  through  the  panels  of 

*"Yes,  yes.   It  is  is  the  will  of  the  Master." 


THE  GREEN-EYED  JOSS  243 

the  door.  Ah-Fang-Fu  tried  to  drag  the  woman 
away,  but  she  clung  to  Stuart  desperately  and  was 
immovable.  Thereupon  the  huge  quadroon,  running 
across  the  room,  swept  them  both  up  into  his  giant 
embrace,  man  and  woman  together,  and  bore  them 
down  by  the  sunken  doorway  into  the  cellars  below ! 

The  shop  door  fell  inwards,  crashing  down  the 
four  steps,  and  Dunbar  sprang  into  the  place,  re- 
volver in  hand,  followed  by  Inspector  Kelly  and 
four  men  of  the  River  Police,  one  of  whom  carried 
a  hurricane  lantern.  Ah-Fang-Fu  had  just  de- 
scended after  Miguel  and  closed  the  heavy  door. 

"Try  this  way,  boys !"  cried  Kelly,  and  rushed  up 
the  stair.  The  four  men  followed  him.  The  lantern 
was  left  on  the  floor.  Dunbar  stared  about  him. 
Sowerby  and  several  other  men  entered.  Suddenly 
Dunbar  saw  Gaston  Max  lying  on  the  floor. 

"My  God !"  he  cried— "they  have  killed  him !" 

He  ran  across,  knelt  and  examined  Max,  pressing 
his  ear  against  his  breast. 

Inspector  Kelly  reaching  the  top  of  the  stairs  and 
finding  the  door  locked,  hurled  his  great  bulk  against 
it  and  burst  it  open. 

"Follow  me,  boys !"  he  cried.  "Take  care !  Bring 
the  lantern,  somebody." 

The  fourth  man  grasped  the  lantern  and  all  fol- 
lowed the  Inspector  up  the  stair  and  out  through  the 
doorway.  His  voice  came  dimly : 

"Mind  the  beam !    Pass  the  light  forward.  ..." 

Sowerby  was  struggling  with  the  door  by  which 


244  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Miguel  and  Ah-Fang-Fu  unseen  had  made  their 
escape  and  Dunbar,  having  rested  Max's  head  upon 
a  pillow,  was  glaring  all  about  him,  his  square  jaw 
set  grimly  and  his  eyes  fierce  with  anger. 

A  voice  droned  from  a  bunk : 

"Cheal  kegur  men  mas  ka-dheer!" 

The  police  were  moving  from  bunk  to  bunk, 
scrutinising  the  occupants.  The  uproar  had  pene- 
trated to  them  even  in  their  drugged  slumbers.  There 
were  stirrings  and  mutterings  and  movements  of 
yellow  hands. 

"But  where,"  muttered  Dunbar,  "is  Dr.  Stuart? 
And  where  is  'The  Scorpion'  ?" 

He  turned  and  stared  at  the  wall  from  which  the 
matting  had  been  torn.  And  out  of  the  little  niche 
in  the  cunningly  masked  door  the  green-eyed  joss 
leered  at  him  complacently. 


PART    IV 
THE  LAIR  OF  THE  SCORPION 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  SUBLIME  ORDER 

STUART  awoke  to  a  discovery  so  strange  that 
for  some  time  he  found  himself  unable  to  ac- 
cept its  reality.    He  passed  his  hands  over  his 
face  and  eyes  and  looked  about  him  dazedly.  He  ex- 
perienced great  pain  in  his  throat,  and  he  could  feel 
that  his  neck  was  swollen.     He  stared  down  at  his 
ankles,  which  also  were  throbbing  agonisingly — to 
learn  that  they  were  confined  in  gyves  attached  by 
a  short  chain  to  a  ring  in  the  floor! 

He  was  lying  upon  a  deep  dvwan,  which  was 
covered  with  leopard-skins  and  which  occupied  one 
corner  of  the  most  extraordinary  room  he  had  ever 
seen  or  ever  could  have  imagined.  He  sat  up,  but 
was  immediately  overcome  with  faintness  which  lie 
conquered  with  difficulty. 

The  apartment,  then,  was  one  of  extraordinary 
Oriental  elegance,  having  two  entrances  closed  with 
lacquer  sliding  doors.  Chinese  lamps  swung  from 
the  ceiling,  illuminated  it  warmly,  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  large  and  bright  silk  cushions  were  strewn 
about  the  floor.  There  were  tapestries  in  black  and 
gold,  rich  carpets  and  couches,  several  handsome 
cabinets  and  a  number  of  tall  cases  of  Oriental  work- 
manship containing  large  and  strangely  bound  books, 

247 


248  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

scientific    paraphernalia,    curios    and    ornaments. 

At  the  further  end  of  the  room  was  a  deep  tiled 
hearth  in  which  stood  a  kind  of  chemical  furnace 
which  hissed  constantly.  Upon  ornate  small  tables 
and  pedestals  were  vases  and  cases — one  of  the 
latter  containing  a  number  of  orchids,  in  flower. 

Preserved  lizards,  snakes,  and  other  creatures 
were  in  a  row  of  jars  upon  a  shelf,  together  with 
small  skeletons  of  animals  in  frames.  There  was 
also  a  perfect  human  skeleton.  Near  the  centre  of 
the  room  was  a  canopied  chair,  of  grotesque  Chinese 
design,  upon  a  dais,  a  big  bronze  bell  hanging  from 
it;  and  near  to  the  diwan  upon  which  Stuart  was 
lying  stood  a  large,  very  finely  carved  table  upon 
which  were  some  open  faded  volumes  and  a  litter 
of  scientific  implements.  Near  the  table  stood  a  very 
large  bowl  of  what  looked  like  platinum,  upon  a 
tripod,  and  several  volumes  lay  scattered  near  it 
upon  the  carpet.  From  a  silver  incense-burner 
arose  a  pencilling  of  blue  smoke. 

One  of  the  lacquer  doors  slid  noiselessly  open  and 
a  man  entered.  Stuart  inhaled  sibilantly  and 
clenched  his  fists. 

The  new-comer  wore  a  cowled  garment  of  some 
dark  blue  material  which  enveloped  him  from  head 
to  feet.  It  possessed  oval  eye-holes,  and  through 
these  apertures  gleamed  two  eyes  which  looked 
scarcely  like  the  eyes  of  a  human  being.  They  were 
of  that  brilliant  yellow  colour  sometimes  seen  in  the 
eyes  of  tigers,  and  their  most  marked  and  awful 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  249 

peculiarity  was  their  unblinking  regard.  They 
seemed  always  to  be  open  to  their  fullest  extent,  and 
Stuart  realised  with  anger  that  it  was  impossible  to 
sustain  for  long  the  piercing  unmoved  gaze  of  Fo-Hi 
.  .  .  for  he  knew  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
"The  Scorpion" ! 

Walking  with  a  slow  and  curious  dignity,  the 
cowled  figure  came  across  to  the  table,  first  closing 
the  lacquer  door.  Stuart's  hands  convulsively 
clutched  the  covering  of  the  diwan  as  the  sinister 
figure  approached.  The  intolerable  gaze  of  those 
weird  eyes  had  awakened  a  horror,  a  loathing 
horror,  within  him,  such  as  he  never  remembered 
to  have  experienced  in  regard  to  any  human  being. 
It  was  the  sort  of  horror  which  the  proximity  of  a 
poisonous  serpent  occasions — or  the  nearness  of  a 
scorpion.  .  .  . 

Fo-Hi  seated  himself  at  the  table. 

Absolute  silence  reigned  in  the  big  room,  except 
for  the  hissing  of  the  furnace.  No  sound  penetrated 
from  the  outer  world.  Having  no  means  of  judging 
how  long  he  had  been  insensible,  Stuart  found  him- 
self wondering  if  the  raid  on  the  den  of  Ah-Fang- 
Fu  had  taken  place  hours  before,  days  earlier,  or 
weeks  ago. 

Taking  up  a  test-tube  from  a  rack  on  the  table, 
Fo-Hi  held  it  near  a  lamp  and  examined  the  con- 
tents— a  few  drops  of  colourless  fluid.  These  he 
poured  into  a  curious  long-necked  yellow  bottle. 
He  began  to  speak,  but  without  looking  at  Stuart. 


250  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

His  diction  was  characteristic,  resembling  his  car- 
riage in  that  it  was  slow  and  distinctive.  He 
seemed  deliberately  to  choose  each  word  and  to  give 
to  it  all  its  value,  syllable  by  syllable.  His  English 
was  perfect  to  the  verge  of  the  pedantic ;  and  his 
voice  was  metallic  and  harsh,  touching  at  times, 
when  his  words  were  vested  with  some  subtle  or 
hidden  significance,  guttural  depths  which  betrayed 
the  Chinaman.  He  possessed  uncanny  dignity  as  of 
tremendous  intellect  and  conscious  power. 

"I  regret  that  you  were  so  rash  as  to  take  part 
in  last  night's  abortive  raid,  Dr.  Stuart,"  he  said. 

Stuart  started.  So  he  had  been  unconscious  for 
many  hours ! 

"Because  of  your  professional  acquirements  at 
one  time  I  had  contemplated  removing  you,"  con- 
tinued the  unemotional  voice.  "But  I  rejoice  to 
think  that  I  failed.  It  would  have  been  an  error  of 
judgment.  I  have  useful  work  for  such  men.  You 
shall  assist  in  the  extensive  laboratories  of  my  dis- 
tinguished predecessor," 

"Never!"  snapped  Stuart. 

The  man's  callousness  was  so  purposeful  and  de- 
liberate that  it  awed.  He  seemed  like  one  who 
stands  above  all  ordinary  human  frailties  and 
emotions. 

"Your  prejudice  is  natural,"  rejoined  Fo-Hi 
calmly.  "You  are  ignorant  of  our  sublime  motives. 
But  you  shall  nevertheless  assist  us  to  establish  that 
intellectual  control  which  is  destined  to  be  the  new 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  251 

World  Force.  No  doubt  you  are  conscious  of  a 
rr.ental  hiatus  extending  from  the  moment  when 
you  found  the  pigtail  of  the  worthy  Ah-Fang-Fu 
about  your  throat  until  that  when  you  recovered 
consciousness  in  this  room.  It  has  covered  a  period 
roughly  of  twenty-four  hours,  Dr.  Stuart." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  muttered  Stuart — and  found 
his  own  voice  to  seem  as  unreal  as  everything  else 
in  the  nightmare  apartment.  "If  I  had  not  revived 
earlier,  I  should  never  have  revived  at  all." 

He  raised  his  hand  to  his  swollen  throat,  touching 
it  gingerly. 

"Your  unconsciousness  was  prolonged,"  explained 
Fo-Hi,  consulting  an  open  book  written  in  Chinese 
characters,  "by  an  injection  which  I  found  it  neces- 
sary to  make.  Otherwise,  as  you  remark,  it  would 
have  been  prolonged  indefinitely.  Your  clever  but 
rash  companion  was  less  happy." 

"What!"  cried  Stuart— "he  is  dead?  You  fiend! 
You  damned  yellow  fiend!"  Emotion  shook  him 
and  he  sat  clutching  the  leopard-skins  and  glaring 
madly  at  the  cowled  figure. 

"Fortunately,"  resumed  Fo-Hi,  "my  people — with 
one  exception — succeeded  in  making  their  escape. 
I  may  add  that  the  needless  scuffling  attendant  upon 
arresting  this  unfortunate  follower  of  mine,  im- 
mediately outside  the  door  of  the  house,  led  to  the 
discovery  of  your  own  presence.  Nevertheless,  the 
others  departed  safely.  My  own  departure  is  im- 
minent; it  has  been  delayed  because  of  certain 


252  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

domestic  details  and  by  the  necessity  of  awaiting 
nightfall.  You  see,  I  am  frank  with  you." 

"Because  the  grave  is  silent !" 

"The  grave,  and  .  .  .  China.  There  is  no  other 
alternative  in  your  case." 

"Are  you  sure  that  there  is  no  other  in  your  own  ?" 
asked  Stuart  huskily. 

"An  alternative  to  my  returning  to  China?  Can 
you  suggest  one?" 

"The  scaffold!"  cried  Stuart  furiously,  "for  you 
and  the  scum  who  follow  you !" 

Fo-Hi  lighted  a  Bunsen  burner. 

"I  trust  not,"  he  rejoined  placidly.  "With  two 
exceptions,  all  my  people  are  now  out  of  England." 

Stuart's  heart  began  to  throb  painfully.  With 
two  exceptions!  Did  Miska  still  remain?  He  con- 
quered his  anger  and  tried  to  speak  calmly,  recognis- 
ing how  he  lay  utterly  in  the  power  of  this  uncanny 
being  and  how  closely  his  happiness  was  involved 
even  if  he  escaped  with  life. 

"And  you?"  he  said. 

"In  these  matters,  Dr.  Stuart,"  replied  Fo-Hi,  "I 
hare  always  modelled  my  behavior  upon  that  of 
the  brilliant  scientist  who  preceded  me  as  European 
representative  of  our  movement.  Your  beautiful 
Thames  is  my  highway  as  it  was  his  highway.  No 
one  of  my  immediate  neighbours  has  ever  seen  me 
of  my  once  extensive  following  enter  this  house." 
He  selected  an  empty  test-tube.  "No  one  shall  see 
me  leave." 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  253 

The  unreality  of  it  all  threatened  to  swamp 
Stuart's  mind  again,  but  he  forced  himself  to  speak 
calmly. 

"Your  own  escape  is  just  possible,  if  some  vessel 
awaits  you;  but  do  you  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
you  can  carry  me  to  China  and  elude  pursuit?" 

Fo-Hi,  again  consulting  the  huge  book  with  ks 
yellow  faded  characters,  answered  him  absently. 

"Do  you  recall  the  death  of  the  Grand  Duke 
Ivan?"  he  said.  "Does  your  memory  retain  the 
name  of  Van  Rembold  and  has  your  Scotland  Yard 
yet  satisfied  itself  that  Sir  Frank  Narcombe  died 
from  'natural  causes'?  Then,  there  was  Ericksen, 
the  most  brilliant  European  electrical  expert  of  the 
century,  who  died  quite  suddenly  last  year.  I 
honor  you,  Dr.  Stuart,  by  inviting  you  to  join  a 
company  so  distinguished." 

"You  are  raving !  What  have  these  men  in  com- 
mon with  me?" 

Stuart  found  himself  holding  his  breath  as  he 
awaited  a  reply — for  he  knew  that  he  was  on  the 
verge  of  learning  that  which  poor  Gaston  Max  had 
given  his  life  to  learn.  A  moment  Fo-Hi  hesitated 
— and  in  that  moment  his  captive  recognised,  and 
shuddered  to  recognise,  that  he  won  this  secret  too 
late.  Then : 

"The  Grand  Duke  is  a  tactician  who,  had  he  re- 
mained in  Europe,  might  well  have  readjusted  the 
frontiers  of  his  country.  Van  Rembold,  as  a  mining 
engineer,  stands  alone,  as  does  Henrik  Ericksen  in 


254  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

the  electrical  world.  As  for  Sir  Frank  Narcombe, 
he  is  beyond  doubt  the  most  brilliant  surgeon  of  to- 
day, and  I,  a  judge  of  men,  count  you  his  peer  in 
the  realm  of  pure  therapeutics.  Whilst  your  studies 
in  snake-poisons  (which  were  narrowly  watched  for 
us  in  India)  give  you  an  unique  place  in  toxicology. 
These  great  men  will  be  some  of  your  companions 
in  China." 

"In  China!" 

"In  China,  Dr.  Stuart,  where  I  hope  you  v/ill 
join  them.  You  misapprehend  the  purpose  of  my 
mission.  It  is  not  destructive,  although  neither  I 
nor  my  enlightened  predecessor  have  ever  scrupled 
to  remove  any  obstacle  from  the  path  of  that  world- 
change  which  no  human  power  can  check  or  hinder ; 
it  is  primarily  constructive.  No  state  or  group  of 
states  can  hope  to  resist  the  progress  of  a  movement 
guided  and  upheld  by  a  monopoly  of  the  world's 
genius.  The  Sublime  Order,  of  which  I  am  an 
unworthy  member,  stands  for  such  a  movement." 

"Rest  assured  it  will  be  crushed." 

"Van  Rembold  is  preparing  radium  in  quantities 
hitherto  unknown  from  the  vast  pitchblend  deposits 
of  Ho-Nan — which  industry  we  control.  He  visited 
China  arrayed  in  his  shroud,  and  he  travelled  in 
a  handsome  Egyptian  sarcophagus  purchased  at 
Sotherby's  on  behalf  of  a  Chinese  collector." 

Fo-Hi  stood  up  and  crossed  to  the  hissing  furnace. 
He  busied  himself  with  some  obscure  experiment 
which  proceeded  there,  and: 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  255 

"Your  own  state-room  will  be  less  romantic,  Dr. 
Stuart,"  he  said,  speaking  without  turning  his 
head;  "possibly  a  packing-case.  In  brief,  that  in- 
tellectual giant  who  achieved  so  much  for  the  Sub- 
lime Order — my  immediate  predecessor  in  office — 
devised  a  means  of  inducing  artificial  catalepsy " 

"My  God!"  muttered  Stuart,  as  the  incredible, 
the  appalling  truth  burst  upon  his  mind. 

"My  own  rather  hazardous  delay,"  continued  Fo- 
Hi,  "is  occasioned  in  some  measure  by  my  anxiety 
to  complete  the  present  experiment.  Its  product 
will  be  your  passport  to  China." 

Carrying  a  tiny  crucible,  he  returned  to  the  table. 

Stuart  felt  that  his  self-possession  was  deserting 
him.  Madness  threatened  .  .  .  if  he  was  not  already 
mad.  He  forced  himself  to  speak. 

"You  taunt  me  because  I  am  helpless.  I  do  not 
believe  that  those  men  have  been  spirited  into  China. 
Even  if  it  were  so,  they  would  die,  as  I  would  die, 
rather  than  prostitute  their  talents  to  such  mad 
infamy." 

Fo-Hi  carefully  poured  the  contents  of  the 
crucible  into  a  flat  platinum  pan. 

"In  China,  Dr.  Stuart,"  he  said,  "we  know  how 
to  make  men  work !  I  myself  am  the  deviser  of  a 
variant  of  the  unduly  notorious  kite  device  and  the 
scarcely  less  celebrated  'Six  Gates  of  Wisdom.'  I 
term  it  The  Feast  of  a  Thousand  Ants.  It  is  per- 
formed with  the  aid  of  African  driver  ants,  a  pair 
of  surgical  scissors  and  a  pot  of  honey.  I  have 


256  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

observed  you  studying  with  interest  the  human 
skeleton  yonder.  It  is  that  of  one  of  my  followers 
— a  Nubian  mute — who  met  with  an  untimely  end 
quite  recently.  You  are  wondering,  no  doubt,  how 
I  obtained  the  frame  in  so  short  a  time  ?  My  African 
driver  ants,  Dr.  Stuart,  of  which  I  have  three  large 
cases  in  a  cellar  below  this  room,  performed  the 
task  for  me  in  exactly  sixty-nine  minutes." 
Stuart  strained  frenziedly  at  his  gyves. 
"My  God!"  he  groaned.  "All  I  have  heard  of 
you  was  the  merest  flattery.  You  are  either  a  fiend 
or  a  madman!" 

"When  you  are  enlisted  as  a  member  of  the  Sub- 
lime Order,"  said  Fo-Hi  softly,  "and  you  awaken 
in  China,  Dr.  Stuart — you  will  work.  We  have  no 
unwilling  recruits." 

"Stop  your  accursed  talk.  I  have  heard  enough." 
But  the  metallic  voice  continued  smoothly: 
"I  appreciate  the  difficulty  which  you  must  ex- 
perience in  grasping  the  true  significance  of  this 
movement.  You  have  seen  mighty  nations,  armed 
with  every  known  resource  of  science,  at  a  deadlock 
on  the  battlefield.  You  naturally  fail  to  perceive 
how  a  group  of  Oriental  philosophers  can  achieve 
what  the  might  of  Europe  failed  to  achieve.  You 
will  remember,  in  favour  of  my  claims,  that  we 
command  the  service  of  the  world's  genius,  and  have 
a  financial  backing  which  could  settle  the  national 
loans  of  the  world !  In  other  words,  exhumation  of 
a  large  percentage  of  the  great  men  who  have  died 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  257 

in  recent  years  would  be  impossible.    Their  tombs 
are  empty." 

"I  have  heard  enough.  Drug  me,  kill  me;  but 
spare  me  your  confidences." 

"In  the  crowded  foyer  of  a  hotel,"  continued  Fo- 
Hi  imperturably,  "of  a  theatre,  of  a  concert-room; 
in  the  privacy  of  their  home,  of  their  office;  wher- 
ever opportunity  offered,  I  caused  them  to  be 
touched  with  the  point  of  a  hypodermic  needle  such 
as  this."  He  held  up  a  small  hypodermic  syringe. 

"It  contained  a  minute  quantity  of  the  serum 
which  I  am  now  preparing — the  serum  whose  dis- 
covery was  the  crowning  achievement  of  a  great 
scientist's  career  (I  refer,  Dr.  Stuart,  to  my  brilliant 
predecessor).  They  were  buried  alive;  but  no 
surgeon  in  Europe  or  America  would  have  hesitated 
to  certify  them  dead.  Aided  by  a  group  of  six 
Hindu  fanatics,  trained  as  Lughais  (grave-diggers), 
it  was  easy  to  gain  access  to  their  resting-places. 
One  had  the  misfortune  to  be  cremated  by  his 
family — a  great  loss  to  my  Council.  But  the  others 
are  now  in  China,  at  our  headquarters.  They  are 
labouring  day  and  night  to  bring  this  war-scarred 
world  under  the  sceptre  of  an  Eastern  Emperor." 

"Faugh !"  cried  Stuart.  "The  whole  of  that  war- 
scarred  world  will  stand  armed  before  you !" 

"We  realise  that,  doctor;  therefore  we  are  pre- 
pared for  it.  We  spoke  of  the  Norwegian  Henrik 
Ericksen.  This  is  his  most  recent  contribution  to 
our  armament." 


258  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Fo-Hi  rested  one  long  yellow  hand  upon  a  kind 
of  model  searchlight. 

"I  nearly  committed  the  clumsy  indiscretion  of 
removing  you  with  this  little  instrument,"  he  said. 
"You  recall  the  episode  ?  Ericksen's  Disintegrating 
Ray,  Dr.  Stuart.  The  model,  here,  possesses  a 
limited  range,  of  course,  but  the  actual  instrument 
has  a  compass  of  seven  and  a  half  miles.  It  can 
readily  be  carried  by  a  heavy  plane !  One  such  plane 
in  a  flight  from  Suez  to  Port  Said,  could  destroy  all 
the  shipping  in  the  Canal  and  explode  every  grain 
of  ammunition  on  either  shore !  Since  I  must  leave 
England  to-night,  the  model  must  be  destroyed,  and 
unfortunately  a  good  collection  of  bacilli  has  already 
suffered  the  same  fate." 

Placidly,  slowly,  and  unmoved  from  his  habit  of 
unruffled  dignity,  Fo-Hi  placed  the  model  in  a  deep 
mortar,  whilst  Stuart  watched  him  speechless  and 
aghast.  He  poured  the  contents  of  a  large  pan  into 
the  mortar,  whereupon  a  loud  hissing  sound  broke 
the  awesome  silence  of  the  room  and  a  cloud  of 
fumes  arose. 

"Not  a  trace,  doctor!"  said  the  cowled  man.  "A 
little  preparation  of  my  own.  It  destroys  the  hardest 
known  substance — with  the  solitary  exception 
of  a  certain  clay — in  the  same  way  that  nitric  acid 
would  destroy  tissue  paper.  You  see  I  might  have 
aspired  to  become  famous  among  safe-breakers." 

"You  have  preferred  to  become  infamous  among 
murderers !"  snapped  Stuart. 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  259 

"To  murder,  Dr.  Stuart,  I  have  never  stooped 
I  am  a  specialist  in  selective  warfare.  When  you 
visit  the  laboratory  of  our  chief  chemist  in  Kiangsu 
you  will  be  shown  the  whole  of  the  armory  of  the 
Sublime  Order.  I  regret  that  the  activities  of  your 
zealous  and  painfully  inquisitive  friend,  M.  Gaston 
Max,  have  forced  me  to  depart  from  England  before 
I  had  completed  my  work  here." 

"I  pray  you  may  never  depart,"  murmured 
Stuart. 

Fo-Hi  having  added  some  bright  green  fluid  to 
that  in  the  flat  pan,  had  now  poured  the  whole  into 
a  large  test-tube,  and  was  holding  it  in  the  flame  of 
the  burner.  At  the  moment  that  it  reached  the  boil- 
ing point  it  became  colourless.  He  carefully  placed 
the  whole  of  the  liquid  in  a  retort  to  which  he  at- 
tached a  condenser.  He  stood  up. 

Crossing  to  a  glass  case  which  rested  upon  a  table 
near  the  diwan  he  struck  it  lightly  with  his  hand. 
The  case  contained  sand  and  fragments  of  rock,  but 
as  Fo-Hi  struck  it,  out  from  beneath  the  pieces  of 
rock  darted  black  active  creatures. 

"The  common  black  scorpion  of  Southern  India," 
he  said  softly.  "Its  venom  is  the  basis  of  the  price- 
less formula,  F.  Katalepsis,  upon  which  the  structure 
of  our  Sublime  Order  rests,  Dr.  Stuart;  hence  the 
adoption  of  a  scorpion  as  our  device." 

He  took  up  a  long  slender  flask. 

"This  virus  prepared  from  a  glandular  secretion 
of  the  Chinese  swamp-adder  is  also  beyond  price. 


260  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Again — the  case  upon  the  pedestal  yonder  contains 
five  perfect  bulbs,  three  already  in  flower,  as  you 
observe,  of  an  orchid  discovered  by  our  chief 
chemist  in  certain  forests  of  Burma.  It  only  occurs 
at  extremely  rare  intervals — eighty  years  or  more — 
and  under  highly  special  conditions.  If  the  other 
two  bulbs  flower,  I  shall  be  enabled  to  obtaia  from 
the  blooms  a  minimum  quantity  of  an  essential  oil 
for  which  the  nations  of  the  earth,  if  they  knew  its 
properties,  would  gladly  empty  their  treasuries. 
This  case  must  at  all  costs  accompany  me." 

"Yet  because  you  are  still  in  England,"  said 
Stuart  huskily,  "I  venture  to  hope  that  your  devil 
dreams  may  end  on  the  scaffold." 

"That  can  never  be,  Dr.  Stuart,"  returned  Fo-Hi 
placidly.  "The  scaffold  is  not  for  such  as  I.  More- 
over, it  is  a  crude  and  barbaric  institution  which  I 
deplore.  Do  you  see  that  somewhat  peculiarly  con- 
structed chair,  yonder?  It  is  an  adaptation,  by  a 
brilliant  young  chemist  of  Canton,  of  Ericksen's 
Disintegrating  Ray.  A  bell  hangs  beside  it.  If  you 
were  seated  in  that  chair  and  I  desired  to  dismiss 
you,  it  would  merely  be  necessary  for  me  to  strike 
the  bell  once  with  the  hammer.  Before  the  vibra- 
tion of  the  note  had  become  inaudible  you  would 
be  seeking  your  ancestors  among  the  shades.  It  is 
the  throne  of  the  gods.  Such  a  death  is  poetic." 

He  returned  to  the  table  and,  observing  meticulous 
eare,  emptied  the  few  drops  of  colourless  liquid 
from  the  condenser  into  a  test-tube.  Holding  the  tube 


THE  SUBLIME  ORDER  261 

near  a  lamp,  he  examined  the  contents,  then  poured 
the  liquid  into  the  curious  yellow  bottle.  A  faint 
vapour  arose  from  it. 

"You  would  scarcely  suppose,"  he  said,  "that 
yonder  window  opens  upon  an  ivy-grown  balcony 
commanding  an  excellent  view  of  that  picturesque 
Tudor  survival,  Hampton  Court?  I  apprehend, 
however,  that  the  researches  of  your  late  friend,  M. 
Gaston  Max,  may  ere  long  lead  Scotland  Yard  to 
my  doors,  although  there  has  been  nothing  in  the 
outward  seeming  of  this  house,  in  the  circumstances 
of  my  tenancy,  or  in  my  behaviour  since  I  have — 
secretly — resided  here,  to  excite  local  suspicion." 

"Scotland  Yard  men  may  surround  the  house 
now !"  said  Stuart  viciously. 

"One  of  the  two  followers  I  have  retained  here 
with  me,  watches  at  the  gate,"  replied  Fo-Hi.  "An 
intruder  seeking  to  enter  by  any  other  route,  through 
the  hedge,  over  the  wall,  or  from  the  river,  would 
cause  electric  bells  to  ring  loudly  in  this  room,  the 
note  of  the  bell  signifying  the  point  of  entry. 
Finally,  in  the  event  of  such  a  surprise,  I  have  an 
exit  whereby  one  emerges  at  a  secret  spot  on  the 
river  bank.  A  motor-boat,  suitably  concealed, 
awaits  me  there." 

He  placed  a  thermometer  in  the  neck  of  the  yellow 
bottle  and  the  bottle  in  a  rack.  He  directed  the 
intolerable  gaze  of  his  awful  eyes  upon  the  man  who 
sat,  teeth  tightly  clenched,  watching  him  from  the 
dvwan. 


262  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Ten  minutes  of  life — in  England — yet  remain  to 
you,  Dr.  Stuart.  In  ten  minutes  this  fluid  will  have 
cooled  to  a  temperature  of  99  degrees,  when  I  shall 
be  enabled  safely  to  make  an  injection.  You  will 
be  reborn  in  Kiangsu." 

Fo-Hi  walked  slowly  to  the  door  whereby  he  had 
entered,  opened  it  and  went  out.  The  door  closed. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  LIVING  DEATH 

THE  little  furnace  hissed  continuously.  A 
wisp  of  smoke  floated  up  from  the  incense- 
burner. 

Stuart  sat  with  his  hands  locked  between  his 
knees,  and  his  gaze  set  upon  the  yellow  flask. 

Even  now  he  found  it  difficult  to  credit  the  verity 
of  his  case.  He  found  it  almost  impossible  to  be- 
lieve that  such  a  being  as  Fo-Hi  existed,  that  such 
deeds  had  been  done,  were  being  done,  in  England, 
as  those  of  which  he  had  heard  from  the  sinister 
cowled  man.  Save  for  the  hissing  of  the  furnace 
and  the  clanking  of  the  chain  as  he  strove  with  all 
his  strength  to  win  freedom,  that  wonderful  evil 
room  was  silent  as  the  King's  Chamber  at  the  heart 
of  the  Great  Pyramid. 

His  gaze  reverted  to  the  yellow  flask. 

"Oh,  my  God !"  he  groaned. 

Terror  claimed  him — the  terror  which  he  had 
with  difficulty  been  fending  off  throughout  that 
nightmare  interview  with  Fo-Hi.  Madness  threat- 
ened him,  and  he  was  seized  by  an  almost  incon- 
trollable  desire  to  shout  execrations — prayers — he 
knew  not  what.  He  clenched  his  teeth  grimly  and 
tried  to  think,  to  plan. 

261 


264  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

He  had  two  chances : 

The  statement  left  with  Inspector  Dunbar,  in 
which  he  had  mentioned  the  existence  of  a  house 
"near  Hampton  Court,"  and  .  .  .  Miska. 

That  she  was  one  of  the  two  exceptions  mentioned 
by  Fo-Hi  he  felt  assured.  But  was  she  in  this 
house,  and  did  she  know  of  his  presence  there? 
Even  so,  had  she  access  to  that  room  of  mysteries — 
of  horrors? 

And  who  was  the  other  who  remained?  Almost 
certainly  it  was  the  fanatical  Hindu,  Chunda  Lai, 
of  whom  she  had  spoken  with  such  palpable  terror 
and  who  watched  her  unceasingly,  untiringly.  He 
would  prevent  her  intervening  even  if  she  had  power 
to  intervene. 

His  great  hope,  then,  was  in  Dunbar  .  .  .  for 
Gaston  Max  was  dead. 

At  the  coming  of  that  thought,  the  foul  doing  to 
death  of  the  fearless  Frenchman,  he  gnashed  his 
teeth  savagely  and  strained  at  the  gyves  until  the 
pain  in  his  ankles  brought  out  beads  of  perspiration 
upon  his  forehead. 

He  dropped  his  head  into  his  hands  and  f  renziedly 
clutched  at  his  hair  with  twitching  fingers. 

The  faint  sound  occasioned  by  the  opening  of  one 
of  the  sliding  doors  brought  him  sharply  upright. 

Miska  entered ! 

She  looked  so  bewilderingly  beautiful  that  terror 
and  sorrow  fled,  leaving  Stuart  filled  only  with  pas- 
sionate admiration.  She  wore  an  Eastern  dress  of 


THE  LIVING  DEATH  265 

gauzy  shimmering  silk  and  high-heeled  gilt  Turkish 
slippers  upon  her  stockingless  feet.  About  her  left 
ankle  was  a  gold  bangle,  and  there  was  barbaric 
jewellery  upon  her  arms.  She  was  a  figure  unreal 
as  all  else  in  that  house  of  dreams,  but  a  figure  so 
lovely  that  Stuart  forgot  the  yellow  flask  .  .  .  for- 
got that  less  than  ten  minutes  of  life  remained  to 
him. 

"Miska !"  he  whispered— "Miska !" 

She  exhibited  intense  but  repressed  excitement 
and  fear.  Creeping  to  the  second  door — that  by 
which  Fo-Hi  had  gone  out — she  pressed  her  ear  to 
the  lacquered  panel  and  listened  intently.  Then, 
coming  swiftly  to  the  table,  she  took  up  a  bunch  of 
keys,  approached  Stuart  and,  kneeling,  unlocked  the 
gyves.  The  scent  of  jasmine  stole  to  his  nostrils. 

"God  bless  you !"  he  said  with  stifled  ardour. 

She  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  standing  before  him 
with  head  downcast.  Stuart  rose  with  difficulty. 
His  legs  were  cramped  and  aching.  He  grasped 
Miska's  hand  and  endeavoured  to  induce  her  to  look 
up.  One  swift  glance  she  gave  him  and  looked  away 
again. 

"You  must  go — this  instant,"  she  said.  "I  show 
you  the  way.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose.  ..." 

"Miska!" 

She  glanced  at  him  again. 

"You  must  come  with  me !" 

"Ah !"  she  whispered — "that  is  impossible !  Have 
I  not  told  you  so  ?" 


266  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"You  have  told  me,  but  I  cannot  understand. 
Here,  in  England,  you  are  free.  Why  should  you 
remain  with  that  cowled  monster  ?" 

"Shall  I  tell  you?"  she  asked,  and  he  could  feel 
how  she  trembled.  "If  I  tell  you,  will  you  promise 
to  believe  me — and  to  go  ?" 

"Not  without  you !" 

"Ah,  no,  no!  If  I  tell  you  that  my  only  chance 
of  life — such  a  little,  little  chance — is  to  stay,  will 
you  go?" 

Stuart  secured  her  other  hand  and  drew  her 
towards  him,  half  resisting. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said  softly.  "I  will  believe  you— 
and  if  it  can  spare  you  one  moment  of  pain  or  sor- 
row, I  will  go  as  you  ask  me." 

"Listen,"  she  whispered,  glancing  fearfully  back 
toward  the  closed  door — "Fo-Hi  has  something  that 
makes  people  to  die ;  and  only  he  can  bring  them  to 
life  again.  Do  you  believe  this?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  rapidly,  her  wonderful  eyes 
wide  and  fearful.  He  nodded. 

"Ah !  you  know !  Very  well.  On  that  day  in 
Cairo,  which  I  am  taken  before  him — you  remember, 
I  tell  you?— he  .  .  .  oh!" 

She  shuddered  wildly  and  hid  her  beautiful  faca 
against  Stuart's  breast.  He  threw  his  arms  about 
her. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said. 

"With  the  needle,  he  ...  inject  ..." 

"Miska!" 


THE  LIVING  DEATH  267 

Stuart  felt  the  blood  rushing  to  his  heart  and 
knew  that  he  had  paled. 

"There  is  something  else,"  she  went  on,  almost 
inaudibly,  "with  which  he  gives  life  again  to  those 
he  has  made  dead  with  the  needle.  It  is  a  light  green 
liquid  tasting  like  bitter  apples ;  and  once  each  week 
for  six  months  it  must  be  drunk  or  else  .  .  .  the 
living  death  comes.  Sometimes  I  have  not  seen 
Fo-Hi  for  six  months  at  a  time,  but  a  tiny  flask,  one 
draught,  of  the  green  liquid,  always  comes  to  me 
wherever  I  am,  every  week  .  .  .  and  twice  each 
year  I  see  him — Fo-Hi  .  .  .  and  he  .  .  ." 

Her  voice  quivered  and  ceased.  Moving  back, 
she  slipped  a  soft  shoulder  free  of  its  flimsy  cover- 
ing. 

Stuart  looked — and  suppresed  a  groan. 

Her  arm  was  dotted  with  the  tiny  marks  made 
by  a  hypodermic  syringe ! 

"You  see?"  she  whispered  tremulously.  "If  I 
go,  I  die,  and  I  am  buried  alive  ...  or  else  I  live 
until  my  body  ..." 

"Oh,  God!"  moaned  Stuart— "the  fiend!  the 
merciless,  cunning  fiend!  Is  there  nothing  .  .  ." 

"Yes,  yes !"  said  Miska,  looking  up.  "If  I  can 
get  enough  of  the  green  fluid  and  escape.  But  he 
tell  me  once — it  was  in  America — that  he  only  pre- 
pares one  tiny  draught  at  a  time !  Listen  !  I  must 
stay,  and  if  he  can  be  captured  he  must  be  forced 
10  make  this  antidote  ...  Ah !  go !  go !" 

Her  words  ended  in  a  sob,  and  Stuart  held  her  to 


268  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

him  convulsively,  his  heart  filled  with  such  helpless, 
fierce  misery  and  bitterness  as  he  had  never  known. 

"Go,  please  go!"  she  whispered.  "It  is  my  only 
chance — there  is  no  other.  There  is  not  a  moment 
to  wait.  Listen  to  me!  You  will  go  by  that  door 
by  which  I  come  in.  There  is  a  better  way,  through 
a  tunnel  he  has  made  to  the  river  bank ;  but  I  can- 
not open  the  door.  Only  he  has  the  key.  At  the 
end  of  the  passage  some  one  is  waiting ." 

"Chunda  Lai!" 

Miska  glanced  up  rapidly  and  then  drooped  her 
eyes  again. 

"Yes — poor  Chunda  Lai.  He  is  my  only  friend. 
Give  him  this." 

She  removed  an  amulet  upon  a  gold  chain  from 
about  her  neck  and  thrust  it  into  Stuart's  hand. 

"It  seems  to  you  silly,  but  Chunda  Lai  is  of  the 
East;  and  he  has  promised.  Oh!  be  quick!  I  am 
afraid.  I  tell  you  something.  Fo-Hi  does  not  know, 
but  the  police  Inspector  and  many  men  search  the 
river  bank  for  the  house !  I  see  them  from  a  win- 
dow  " 

"What!"  cried  Stuart— "Dunbar  is  here!" 

"Ssh!  ssh!"  Miska  clutched  him  wildly.  "He 
is  not  far  away.  You  will  go  and  bring  him  here. 
No!  for  me  do  not  fear.  I  put  the  keys  back  and 
he  will  think  you  have  opened  the  lock  by  some 
trick " 

"Miska !" 

"Oh,  no  more  1" 


THE  LIVING  DEATH  269 

She  slipped  from  his  arms,  crossed  and  reopened 
the  lacquered  door,  revealing  a  corridor  dimly 
lighted.  Stuart  followed  and  looked  along  the  cor- 
ridor. 

"Right  to  the  end,"  she  whispered,  "and  down  the 
steps.  You  know" — touching  the  amulet  which 
Stuart  carried — "how  to  deal  with — Chunda  Lai." 

But  still  he  hesitated;  until  she  seized  his  hand 
and  urged  him.  Thereupon  he  swept  her  wildly  into 
his  arms. 

"Miska !  how  can  I  leave  you !    It  is  maddening !" 

"You  must !  you  must !" 

He  looked  into  her  eyes,  stooped  and  kissed  her 
upon  the  lips.  Then,  with  no  other  word,  he  tore 
himself  away  and  walked  quickly  along  the  corridor. 
Miska  watched  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight,  then 
re-entered  the  great  room  and  closed  the  door.  She 
turned,  and : 

"Oh,  God  of  mercy"  she  whispered. 

Just  within  the  second  doorway  stood  Fo-Hi 
watching  her. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  FIFTH  SECRET  OF  RACHE  CHURAH 

STRICKEN  silent  with  fear,  Miska  staggered 
back  against  the  lacquered  door,  dropping  the 
keys  which  she  held  in  her  hand.  Fo-Hi  had 
removed  the  cowled  garment  and  was  now  arrayed 
in  a  rich  mandarin  robe.  Through  the  grotesque 
green  veil  which  obscured  his  features  the  brilliant 
eyes  shone  catlike. 

"So,"  he  said  softly,  "you  speed  the  parting  guest. 
And  did  I  not  hear  the  sound  of  a  chaste  salute?'' 

Miska  watched  him,  wild-eyed. 

"And  he  knows,"  continued  the  metallic  voice, 
"  'how  to  deal  with  Chunda  Lai'  ?  But  it  may  be 
that  Chunda  Lai  will  know  how  to  deal  with  him! 
I  had  suspected  that  Dr.  Keppel  Stuart  entertained 
an  unprofessional  interest  in  his  charming  patient. 
Your  failure  to  force  the  bureau  drawer  in  his  study 
excited  my  suspicion — unjustly,  I  admit;  for  did 
not  I  fail  also  when  I  paid  the  doctor  a  personal 
visit?  True,  I  was  disturbed.  But  this  suspicion 
later  returned.  It  was  in  order  that  some  lingering 
doubt  might  be  removed  that  I  afforded  you  the  op- 
portunity of  interviewing  my  guest.  But  whatever 
surprise  his  ingenuity,  aided  by  your  woman's  wit, 
has  planned  for  Chunda  Lai,  I  dare  to  believe  that 

270 


FIFTH  SECRET  OF  RACHE  CHURAN      271 

Chunda  Lai,  being  forewarned,  will  meet  success- 
fully. He  is  expecting  an  attempt,  by  Dr.  Stuart,  to 
leave  this  house.  He  has  my  orders  to  detain  him." 

At  that,  anger  conquered  terror  in  the  heart  of 
Miska,  and: 

"You  mean  he  has  your  orders  to  kill  him!"  she 
cried  desperately. 

Fo-Hi  closed  the  door. 

"On  the  contrary,  he  has  my  orders  to  take  every 
possible  care  of  him.  Those  blind,  tempestuous  pas- 
sions which  merely  make  a  woman  more  desirable 
find  no  place  in  the  trained  mind  of  the  scientist. 
That  Dr.  Stuart  covets  my  choicest  possession  in 
no  way  detracts  from  his  value  to  my  Council." 

Miska  had  never  moved  from  the  doorway  by 
which  Stuart  had  gone  out ;  and  now,  having  listened 
covertly  and  heard  no  outcry,  her  faith  in  Chunda 
Lai  was  restored.  Her  wonderful  eyes  narrowed 
momentarily,  and  she  spoke  with  the  guile,  which 
seems  so  na'ive,  of  the  Oriental  woman. 

"I  care  nothing  for  him — this  Dr.  Stuart.  But 
he  had  done  you  no  wrong " 

"Beyond  seeking  my  death — none.  I  have  already 
said" — the  eyes  of  Fo-Hi  gleamed  through  the  hide- 
ous veil — "that  I  bear  him  no  ill  will." 

"But  you  plan  to  carry  him  to  China — like  those 
others." 

"I  assign  him  a  part  in  the  New  Renaissance — yes. 
In  the  Deluge  that  shall  engulf  the  world,  his  place 
is  in  the  Ark.  I  honor  him." 


272  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Perhaps  he  rather  remain  a — nobody — than  be 
so  honored." 

"In  his  present  state  of  imperfect  understanding 
it  is  quite  possible,"  said  Fo-Hi  smoothly.  "But  if 
he  refuses  to  achieve  greatness  he  must  have  great- 
ness thrust  upon  him.  Van  Rembold,  I  seem  to  re- 
call, hesitated  for  some  time  to  direct  his  genius  to 
the  problem  of  producing  radium  in  workable  quan- 
tities from  the  pitchblend  deposits  of  Ho-Nan.  But 
the  split  rod  had  not  been  applied  to  the  soles  of  his 
feet  more  than  five  times  ere  he  reviewed  his 
prejudices  and  found  them  to  be  surmountable." 

Miska,  knowing  well  the  moods  of  the  monstrous 
being  whose  unveiled  face  she  had  never  seen,  was 
not  deceived  by  the  suavity  of  his  manner.  Never- 
theless, she  fought  down  her  terror,  knowing  how 
much  might  depend  upon  her  retaining  her  presence 
of  mind.  How  much  of  her  interview  with  Stuart 
he  had  overheard  she  did  not  know,  nor  how  much 
he  had  witnessed. 

"But,"  she  said,  moving  away  from  him,  "he  does 
not  matter — this  one.  Forgive  me  if  I  think  to  let 
him  go ;  but  I  am  afraid " 

Fo-Hi  crossed  slowly,  intercepting  her. 

"Ah!"  said  Miska,  her  eyes  opening  widely — 
"you  are  going  to  punish  me  again !  For  why  ?  Be- 
cause I  am  a  woman  and  cannot  always  be  cruel?" 

From  its  place  on  the  wall  Fo-Hi  took  a  whip. 
At  that : 

"Ah!  no,  no!"  she  cried.     "You  drive  me  mad! 


FIFTH  SECRET  OF  RACHE  CHURAN      273 

I  am  only  in  part  of  the  East  and  I  cannot  bear  it — 
I  cannot  bear  it !  You  teach  me  to  be  like  the  women 
of  England,  who  are  free,  and  you  treat  me  like 
the  women  of  China,  who  are  slaves.  Once,  it  did 
not  matter.  I  thought  it  was  part  of  a  woman's  life 
to  be  treated  so.  But  now  I  cannot  bear  it !"  She 
stamped  her  foot  fiercely  upon  the  floor.  "I  tell 
you  I  cannot  bear  it !" 

Whip  in  hand,  Fo-Hi  stood  watching  her. 

"You  release  that  man — for  whom  you  'care 
nothing' — in  order  that  he  may  bring  my  enemies 
about  me,  in  order  that  he  may  hand  me  over  to  the 
barbarous  law  of  England.  Now,  you  'cannot  bear' 
so  light  a  rebuke  as  the  whip.  Here,  I  perceive,  is 
some  deep  psychological  change.  Such  protests  do 
not  belong  to  the  women  of  my  country;  they  are 
never  heard  in  the  zenana,  and  would  provoke  de- 
rision in  the  harems  of  Stambul." 

"You  have  trained  me  to  know  that  life  in  a 
harem  is  not  life,  but  only  the  existence  of  an 
animal." 

"I  have  trained  you — yes.  What  fate  was  before 
you  when  I  intervened  in  that  Mecca  slave-market  ? 
You  who  are  'only  in  part  of  the  East.'  Do  you 
forget  so  soon  how  you  cowered  there  amongst  the 
others,  Arabs,  Circassians,  Georgians,  Nubians, 
striving  to  veil  your  beauty  from  those  ravenous 
eyes  ?  From  what  did  I  rescue  you  ?" 

"And  for  what?"  cried  Miska  bitterly.  "To  use 
me  as  a  lure — and  beat  me  if  I  failed." 


274  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Fo-Hi  stood  watching  her,  and  slowly,  as  he 
watched,  terror  grew  upon  her  and  she  retreated  be- 
fore him,  step  by  step.  He  made  no  attempt  to 
follow  her,  but  continued  to  watch.  Then,  raising 
the  whip  he  broke  it  across  his  knee  and  dropped  the 
pieces  on  the  floor. 

At  that  she  extended  her  hands  towards  him 
pitifully. 

"Oh !  what  are  you  going  to  do  to  me !"  she  said. 
"Let  me  go!  let  me  go!  I  can  no  more  be  of  use 
to  you.  Give  me  back  my  life  and  let  me  go — let 
me  go  and  hide  away  from  them  all — from  all  ... 
the  world.  ..." 

Her  words  died  away  and  ceased  upon  a  supprest 
hysterical  sob.  For,  in  silence,  Fo-Hi  stood  watch- 
ing her,  unmoved. 

"Oh!"  she  moaned,  and  sank  cowering  upon  a 
dlwan — "why  do  you  watch  me  so !" 

"Because,"  came  the  metallic  voice,  softly — "you 
are  beautiful  with  a  beauty  given  but  rarely  to  the 
daughters  of  men.  The  Sublime  Order  has  acquired 
many  pretty  women — for  they  are  potent  weapons 
— but  none  so  fair  as  you.  Miska,  I  would  make 
life  sweet  for  you." 

"Ah !  you  do  not  mean  that !"  she  whispered  fear- 
fully. 

"Have  I  not  clothed  you  in  the  raiment  of  a  prin- 
cess!" continued  Fo-Hi.  "To-night,  at  my  urgent 
request,  you  wear  the  charming  national  costume  in 
which  I  delight  to  see  you.  But  is  there  a  woman 


FIFTH  SECRET  OF  RACHE  CHURAN      275 

of  Paris,  of  London,  of  New  York,  who  has  such 
robes,  such  jewels,  such  apartments  as  you  possess? 
Perhaps  the  peculiar  duties  which  I  have  required 
you  to  perform,  the  hideous  disguises  which  you 
have  sometimes  been  called  upon  to  adopt,  have  dis- 
gusted you." 

Her  heart  beating  wildly,  for  she  did  not  know 
this  mood  but  divined  it  to  portend  some  unique 
horror,  Miska  crouched,  head  averted. 

"To-night  the  hour  has  come  to  break  the  whip. 
To-night  the  master  in  me  dies.  My  cloak  of  wise 
authority  has  fallen  from  me  and  I  offer  myself  in 
bondage  to  you — my  slave!" 

"This  is  some  trap  you  set  for  me !"  she  whispered. 

But  Fo-Hi,  paying  no  heed  to  her  words,  continued 
in  the  same  rapt  voice: 

"Truly  have  you  observed  that  the  Chinese  wife 
is  but  a  slave  to  her  lord.  I  have  said  that  the  rela- 
tion of  master  and  slave  is  ended  between  us.  I 
offer  you  a  companionship  that  signifies  absolute 
freedom  and  perfect  understanding.  Half  of  all 
I  have — and  the  world  lies  in  my  grasp — is  yours. 
I  offer  a  throne  set  upon  the  Seven  Mountains  of 
the  Universe.  Look  into  my  eyes  and  read  the  truth." 

But  lower  and  lower  she  cowered  upon  the  dvwan. 

"No,  no!    I  am  afraid!" 

Fo-Hi  approached  her  closely  and  abject  terror 
now  had  robbed  her  of  strength.  Her  limbs  seemed 
to  have  become  numbed,  her  tongue  clave  to  the 
roof  of  her  mouth. 


THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 


"Fear  me  no  more,  Miska,"  said  Fo-Hi.  "I  will 
you  nothing  but  joy.  The  man  who  has  learned  the 
Fifth  Secret  of  Rache  Churan — who  has  learned 
how  to  control  his  will — holds  a  power  absolute  and 
beyond  perfectability.  You  know,  who  have  dwelt 
beneath  my  roof,  that  there  is  no  escape  from  my 
will."  His  calm  was  terrible,  and  his  glance,  through 
the  green  veil,  was  like  a  ray  of  scorching  heat.  His 
voice  sank  lower  and  lower. 

"There  is  one  frailty,  Miska,  that  even  the  Adept 
cannot  conquer.  It  is  inherent  in  every  man. 
Miska,  I  would  not  force  you  to  grasp  the  joy  I 
offer ;  I  would  have  you  accept  it  willingly.  No !  do 
not  turn  from  me !  No  woman  in  all  the  world  has 
ever  heard  me  plead,  as  I  plead  to  you.  Never  be- 
fore have  I  sued  for  favours.  Do  not  turn  from 
me,  Miska." 

Slightly,  the  metallic  voice  vibrated,  and  the 
ruffling  of  that  giant  calm  was  a  thing  horrible  to 
witness.  Fo-Hi  extended  his  long  yellow  hands, 
advancing  step  by  step  until  he  stood  over  the 
cowering  girl.  Irresistibly  her  glance  was  drawn 
to  those  blazing  eyes  which  the  veil  could  not  hide, 
and  as  she  met  that  unblinking  gaze  her  own  eyes 
dilated  and  grew  fixed  as  those  of  a  sleep-walker. 
A  moment  Fo-Hi  stood  so.  Then  passion  swept  him 
from  his  feet  and  he  seized  her  fiercely. 

"Your  eyes  drive  me  mad!"  he  hissed.  "Your 
lips  taunt  me,  and  I  know  all  earthly  greatness  to 
be  a  mirage,  its  conquests  visions,  and  its  fairness 


FIFTH  SECRET  OF  RACHE  CHURAN      277 

dust.  I  would  rather  be  a  captive  in  your  white 
arms  than  the  emperor  of  heaven !  Your  sweetness 
intoxicates  me,  Miska.  A  fever  burns  me  up !" 

Helpless,  enmeshed  in  the  toils  of  that  mighty 
will,  Miska  raised  her  head;  and  gradually  her  ex- 
pression changed.  Fear  was  smoothed  away  from 
her  lovely  face  as  by  some  magic  brush.  She  grew 
placid ;  and  finally  she  smiled — the  luresome,  caress- 
ing smile  of  the  East.  Nearer  and  nearer  drew  the 
green  veil.  Then,  uttering  a  sudden  fierce  exclama- 
tion, Fo-Hi  thrust  her  from  him. 

"That  smile  is  not  for  me,  the  man!"  he  cried 
gutturally.  "Ah!  I  could  curse  the  power  that 
I  coveted  and  set  above  all  earthly  joys!  I  who 
boasted  that  he  could  control  his  will — I  read  in 
your  eyes  that  I  am  willing  you  to  love  me !  I  seek 
a  gift  and  can  obtain  but  a  tribute !" 

Miska,  with  a  sobbing  moan,  sank  upon  the.  diwan. 
Fo-Hi  stood  motionless,  looking  straight  before  him. 
His  terrible  calm  was  restored. 

"It  is  a  bitter  truth,"  he  said — "that  to  win  the 
world  I  have  bartered  the  birthright  of  men:  the 
art  of  winning  a  woman's  heart.  There  is  much  in 
our  Chinese  wisdom.  I  erred  in  breaking  the  whip. 
I  erred  in  doubting  my  own  prescience,  which  told 
me  that  the  smiles  I  could  not  woo  were  given  freely 
to  another  .  .  .  and  perhaps  the  kisses.  At  least 
I  can  set  these  poor  frail  human  doubts  at  rest." 

He  crossed  and  struck  a  gong  which  hung  midway 
between  the  two  doors. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  GUILE  OF  THE  EAST 

HER  beautiful  face  a  mask  of  anguish,  Miska 
cowered  upon  the  diwan,  watching  the 
closed  doors.  Fo-Hi  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  great  room  with  his  back  to  the  entrance. 
Silently  one  of  the  lacquered  panels  slid  open  and 
Chunda  Lai  entered.  He  saluted  the  figure  of  the 
veiled  Chinaman  but  never  once  glanced  in  the 
direction  of  the  diwan  from  which  Miska  wildly 
was  watching  him. 

Without  turning  his  head,  Fo-Hi,  who  seemed  to 
detect  the  presence  of  the  silent  Hindu  by  means  of 
some  fifth  sense,  pointed  to  a  bundle  of  long  rods 
stacked  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

His  brown  face  expressionless  as  that  of  a  bronze 
statue,  Chunda  Lai  crossed  and  took  the  rods  from 
their  place. 

"Turn  samajhte  ho?"  (Do  you  understand?)  said 
Fo-Hi.  Chunda  Lai  inclined  his  head. 

"Main  tumhdri  bat  manunga"  (Your  orders 
shall  be  obeyed),  he  replied. 

"Ah,  God !  no !"  whispered  Miska — "what  are  you 
going  to  do?" 

"Your  Hindustani  was  ever  poor,  Miska,"  said 
Fo-Hi. 

278 


THE  GUILE  OF  THE  EAST 


He  turned  to  Chunda  Lai. 

"Until  you  hear  the  gong,"  he  said  in  English. 

Miska  leapt  to  her  feet,  as  Chunda  Lai,  never  once 
glancing  at  her,  went  out  bearing  the  rods,  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him.  Fo-Hi  turned  and  con- 
fronted her. 

"Ta'ala  hma  (come  hither),  Miska!"  he  said 
softly.  "Shall  I  speak  to  you  in  the  soft  Arab 
tongue?  Come  to  me,  lovely  Miska.  Let  me  feel 
how  that  sorrowful  heart  will  leap  like  a  captive 
gazelle." 

But  Miska  shrank  back  from  him,  pale  to  the  lips. 

"Very  well."  His  metallic  voice  sank  to  a  hiss. 
"I  employ  no  force.  You  shall  yield  me  your  heart 
as  a  love  offering.  Of  such  motives  as  jealousy  and 
revenge  you  know  me  to  be  incapable.  What  I 
do,  I  do  with  a  purpose.  That  compassion  of  yours 
shall  be  a  lever  to  cast  you  into  my  arms.  Your 
hatred  you  shall  conquer." 

"Oh,  have  you  no  mercy?  Is  there  nothing 
human  in  your  heart  ?  Did  I  say  I  hate  you  !" 

"Your  eyes  are  eloquent,  Miska.  I  cherish  two 
memories  of  those  beautiful  eyes.  One  is  of  their 
fear  and  loathing  —  of  me;  the  other  is  of  their  sweet 
softness  when  they  watched  the  departure  of  my 
guest.  Listen!  Do  you  hear  nothing?" 

In  an  attitude  of  alert  and  fearful  attention  Miska 
stood  listening.  Fo-Hi  watched  her  through  the 
veil  with  those  remorseless  blazing  eyes. 

"I  will  open  the  door,"  he  said  smoothly,  "that 


28o  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

we  may  more  fully  enjoy  the  protests  of  one  for 
whom  you  'care  nothing' — of  one  whose  lips  have 
pressed — your  hand." 

He  opened  the  door  by  which  Chunda  Lai  had 
gone  out  and  turned  again  to  Miska.  Her  eyes 
looked  unnaturally  dark  by  contrast  with  the  pallor 
of  her  face. 

Chunda  Lai  had  betrayed  her.  She  no  longer 
doubted  it.  For  he  had  not  dared  to  meet  her 
glance.  His  fear  of  Fo-Hi  had  overcome  his  love 
for  her  .  .  .  and  Stuart  had  been  treacherously 
seized  somewhere  in  the  corridors  and  rendered 
helpless  by  the  awful  art  of  the  thug. 

"There  is  a  brief  interval,"  hissed  the  evil  voice. 
"Chunda  Lai  is  securing  him  to  the  frame  and  baring 
the  soles  of  his  feet  for  the  caresses  of  the  rod." 

Suddenly,  from  somewhere  outside  the  room,  came 
a  sound  of  dull,  regular  blows  .  .  .  then,  a 
smothered  moan! 

Miska  sprang  forward  and  threw  herself  upon 
her  knees  before  Fo-Hi,  clutching  at  his  robe 
frantically. 

"Ah!  merciful  God!  he  is  there!  Spare  him! 
spare  him !  No  more — no  more !" 

"He  is  there?"  repeated  Fo-Hi  suavely.  "As- 
suredly he  is  there,  Miska.  I  know  not  by  what 
trick  he  hoped  to  'deal  with'  Chunda  Lai.  But,  as  I 
informed  you,  Chunda  Lai  was  forewarned." 

The  sound  of  blows  continued,  followed  by  that 
of  another,  louder  groan. 


THE  GUILE  OF  THE  EAST          281 

"Stop  him!    Stop  him!"  shrieked  Miska. 
"You  'care  nothing'  for  this  man.    Why  do  you 
tremble  ?" 

"Oh!"  she  wailed  piteously.  "I  cannot  bear  it 
...  oh,  I  cannot  bear  it !  Do  what  you  like  with 
me,  but  spare  him.  Ah !  you  have  no  mercy." 

Fo-Hi  handed  her  the  hammer  for  striking  the 
gong. 

"It  is  you  who  have  no  mercy,"  he  replied.  "I 
have  asked  but  one  gift.  The  sound  of  the  gong 
will  end  Dr.  Stuart's  discomfort  .  .  .  and  will  mean 
that  you  voluntarily  accept  my  offer.  What!  you 
hesitate  ?"  A  stifled  scream  rang  out  sharply. 
"Ah,  yes!  yes!" 

Miska  ran  and  struck  the  gong,  then  staggered 
back  to  the  diwan  and  fell  upon  it,  hiding  her  face 
in  her  hands.  The  sounds  of  torture  ceased. 

Fo-Hi  closed  the  door  and  stood  looking  at  her 
where  she  lay. 

"I  permit  you  some  moments  of  reflection,"  he 
said,  "in  order  that  you  may  compose  yourself  to 
receive  the  addresses  which  I  shall  presently  have 
the  honour,  and  joy,  of  making  to  you.  Yes — this 
door  is  unlocked."  He  threw  the  keys  on  the  table. 
"I  respect  your  promise  .  .  .  and  Chunda  Lai 
guards  the  outer  exits." 

He  opened  the  further  door,  by  which  he  had 
entered,  and  went  out. 

Miska,  through  the  fingers  of  her  shielding  hands, 
watched  him  go. 


282  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

When  he  had  disappeared  she  sprang  up,  clench- 
ing her  teeth,  and  her  face  was  contorted  with 
anguish.  She  began  to  move  aimlessly  about  the 
room,  glancing  at  the  many  strange  objects  on  the 
big  table  and  looking  long  and  fearfully  at  the 
canopied  chair  beside  which  hung  the  bronze  bell. 
Finally : 

"Oh,  Chunda  Lai!  Chunda  Lai!"  she  moaned, 
and  threw  herself  face  downward  on  the  dvwan, 
sobbing  wildly. 

So  she  lay,  her  whole  body  quivering  with  the 
frenzy  of  her  emotions,  and  as  she  lay  there,  inch 
by  inch,  cautiously,  the  nearer  door  began  to  open. 

Chunda  Lai  looked  in. 

Finding  the  room  to  be  occupied  only  by  Miska, 
he  crossed  rapidly  to  the  dvwan,  bending  over  her 
with  infinite  pity  and  tenderness. 

"Miska !"  he  whispered  softly. 

As  though  an  adder  had  touched  her,  Miska 
sprang  to  her  feet — and  back  from  the  Hindu.  Her 
eyes  flashed  fiercely. 

"Ah!  you!  you!"  she  cried  at  him,  with  a  re- 
pressed savagery  that  spoke  of  the  Oriental  blood 
in  her  veins.  "Do  not  speak  to  me — look  at  me! 
Do  not  come  near  me!  I  hate  you!  God!  how  I 
hate  you !" 

"Miska!  Miska!"  he  said  beseechingly — "you 
pierce  my  heart !  you  kill  me !  Can  you  not  under- 
stand  " 

"Go!  go!" 


THE  GUILE  OF  THE  EAST          283 

She  drew  back  from  him,  clenching  and  unclench- 
ing her  jewelled  fingers  and  glaring  madly  into  his 
eyes. 

"Look,  Miska!"  He  took  the  gold  chain  and 
amulet  from  his  bosom.  "Your  token!  Can  you 
not  understand!  Yah  Allah!  how  little  you  trust 
me — and  I  would  die  for  one  glance  of  your  eyes! 
He — Stuart  Sahib — has  gone,  gone  long  since!" 

"Ah !  Chunda  Lai  1" 

Miska  swayed  dizzily  and  extended  her  hands 
towards  him.  Chunda  Lai  glanced  fearfully  about 
him. 

"Did  I  not,"  he  whispered,  with  an  intense  ardour 
in  his  soft  voice, — "did  I  not  lay  my  life,  my 
service,  all  I  have,  at  your  feet?  Did  I  not  vow  to 
serve  you  in  the  name  of  Bhozvdni!  He  is  long  since 
gone  to  bring  his  friends — who  are  searching  from 
house  to  house  along  the  river.  At  any  moment 
they  may  be  here !" 

Miska  dropped  weakly  upon  her  knees  before  him 
and  clasped  his  hand. 

"Chunda  Lai,  my  friend!  Oh,  forgive  me!" 
Her  voice  broke.  "Forgive  ..." 

Chunda  Lai  raised  her  gently. 

"Not  upon  your  knees  to  me,  Miska.  It  was  a 
little  thing  to  do — for  you.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that 
— he — had  cast  his  eyes  upon  you?  Mine  was  the 
voice  you  heard  to  cry  out.  Ah !  you  do  not  know ; 
it  is  to  gain  time  that  I  seem  to  serve  him!  Only 
this,  Miska" — he  revealed  the  blade  of  a  concealed 


284  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

knife — "stand  between  Fo-Hi  and — you!  Had  * 
not  read  it  in  his  eyes !" 

He  raised  his  glance  upward  frantically. 

"Jey  Bhozvdni!  give  me  strength,  give  me  courage ! 
For  if  I  fail  ..." 

He  glared  at  her  passionately,  clutching  his 
bosom ;  then,  pressing  the  necklet  to  his  lips,  he  con- 
cealed it  again,  and  bent,  whispering  urgently : 

"Listen  again — I  reveal  it  to  you  without  price  or 
hope  of  reward,  for  I  know  there  is  no  love  in  your 
heart  to  give,  Miska ;  I  know  that  it  takes  you  out 
of  my  sight  for  always.  But  I  tell  you  what  I  learn 
in  the  house  of  Abdul  Rozan.  Your  life  is  your 
own,  Miska !  With  the  needle" — yet  closer  he  bent 
to  her  ear  and  even  softer  he  spoke — "he  pricks 
your  white  skin — no  more !  The  vial  he  sends  con- 
tains a  harmless  cordial !" 

"ChundaLal!" 

Miska  swayed  again  dizzily,  clutching  at  the 
Hindu  for  support. 

"Quick!  fly!"  he  said,  leading  her  to  the  door. 
"I  will  see  he  does  not  pursue  I" 

"No,  no!  you  shall  shed  no  blood  for  me!  Not 
even  .  .  .  his.  You  come  also !" 

"And  if  he  escape,  and  know  that  I  was  false  to 
him,  he  will  call  me  back,  and  I  shall  be  dragged  to 
those  yellow  eyes,  though  I  am  a  thousand  miles 
away!  Inshalla!  those  eyes!  No — I  must  strike 
swift,  or  he  robs  me  of  my  strength." 

For  a  long  moment  Miska  hesitated. 


THE  GUILE  OF  THE  EAST          285 

"Then,  I  also  remain,  Chunda  Lai,  my  friend  1 
We  will  wait — and  watch — and  listen  for  the  bells — 
here — that  tell  they  are  in  the  grounds  of  the  house." 

"Ah,  Miska!" — the  glance  of  the  Hindu  grew 
fearful — "you  are  clever — but  he  is  the  Evil  One! 
I  fear  for  you.  Fly  now.  There  is  yet  time  ..." 

A  faint  sound  attracted  Miska's  attention.  Plac- 
ing a  quivering  finger  to  her  lips,  she  gently 'thrust 
Chunda  Lai  out  into  the  corridor. 

"He  returns!"  she  whispered:  "If  I  call — come 
to  me,  my  friend.  But  we  have  not  long  to  wait!" 

She  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHAT   HAPPENED  TO   STUART 

STUART  had  gained  the  end  of  the  corridor, 
unmolested.  There  he  found  a  short  flight  of 
steps,  which  he  descended  and  came  to  a 
second  corridor  forming  a  right  angle  with  the  first. 
A  lamp  was  hung  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  by 
its  light  he  discerned  a  shadowy  figure  standing  at 
the  further  end  of  this  second  passage. 

A  moment  he  hesitated,  peering  eagerly  along  the 
corridor.  The  man  who  waited  was  Chunda  Lai. 
Stuart  approached  him  and  silently  placed  in  his 
hand  the  gold  amulet. 

Chunda  Lai  took  it  as  one  touching  something 
holy,  and  raising  it  he  kissed  it  with  reverence.  His 
dark  eyes  were  sorrowful.  Long  and  ardently  he 
pressed  the  little  trinket  to  his  lips,  then  concealed 
it  under  the  white  robe  which  he  wore  and  turned 
to  Stuart.  His  eyes  were  sorrowful  no  more,  but 
fierce  as  the  eyes  of  a  tiger. 

"Follow !"  he  said. 

He  unlocked  a  door  and  stepped  out  into  a 
neglected  garden,  Stuart  close  at  his  heels.  The  sky 
was  cloudy,  and  the  moon  obscured.  Never  glanc- 
ing back,  Chunda  Lai  led  the  way  along  a  path 
skirting  a  high  wall  upon  which  climbing  fruit  trees 

286 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  STUART     287 

were  growing  until  they  came  to  a  second  door  and 
ihis  also  the  Hindu  unlocked.  He  stood  aside. 

"To  the  end  of  this  lane,"  he  said,  in  his  soft 
queerly  modulated  voice,  "and  along  the  turning  to 
the  left  to  the  river  bank.  Follow  the  bank  towards 
the  palace  and  you  will  meet  them." 

"I  owe  you  my  life,"  said  Stuart. 

"Go!  you  owe  me  nothing,"  returned  the  Hindu 
fiercely. 

Stuart  turned  and  walked  rapidly  along  the  lane. 
Once  he  glanced  back.  Chunda  Lai  was  looking 
after  him  .  .  .  and  he  detected  something  that 
gleamed  in  his  hand,  gleamed  not  like  gold  but  like 
the  blade  of  a  knife ! 

Turning  the  corner,  Stuart  began  to  run.  For  he 
was  unarmed  and  still  weak,  and  there  had  been 
that  in  the  fierce  black  eyes  of  the  Hindu  when  he 
had  scorned  Stuart's  thanks  which  had  bred  sus- 
picion and  distrust. 

From  the  position  of  the  moon,  Stuart  judged  the 
hour  to  be  something  after  midnight.  No  living 
thing  stirred  about  him.  The  lane  in  which  now  he 
found  himself  was  skirted  on  one  side  by  a  hedge 
beyond  which  was  open  country  and  on  the  other 
by  a  continuation  of  the  high  wall  which  evidently 
enclosed  the  grounds  of  the  house  that  he  had  just 
quitted.  A  cool  breeze  fanned  his  face,  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  approaching  the  Thames.  Ten 
more  paces  and  he  came  to  the  bank. 

In  his  weak  condition  the  short  run  had  exhausted 


288  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

him.  His  bruised  throat  was  throbbing  painfully, 
and  he  experienced  some  difficulty  in  breathing.  He 
leaned  up  against  the  moss-grown  wall,  looking  back 
into  the  darkness  of  the  lane. 

No  one  was  in  sight.  There  was  no  sound  save 
the  gentle  lapping  of  the  water  upon  the  bank. 

He  would  have  liked  to  bathe  his  throat  and  to 
quench  his  feverish  thirst,  but  a  mingled  hope  and 
despair  spurred  him  and  he  set  off  along  the  narrow 
path  towards  where  dimly  above  some  trees  he 
could  discern  in  the  distance  a  group  of  red-roofed 
buildings.  Having  proceeded  for  a  considerable 
distance,  he  stood  still,  listening  for  any  sound  that 
might  guide  him  to  the  search-party — or  warn  him 
that  he  was  followed.  But  he  could  hear  nothing. 

Onward  he  pressed,  not  daring  to  think  of  what 
the  future  held  for  him,  not  daring  to  dwell  upon 
the  memory,  the  maddening  sweetness,  of  that  part- 
ing kiss.  His  eyes  grew  misty,  he  stumbled  as  he 
walked,  and  became  oblivious  of  his  surroundings. 
His  awakening  was  a  rude  one. 

Suddenly  a  man,  concealed  behind  a  bush,  sprang 
out  upon  him  and  bore  him  irresistibly  to  the 
ground ! 

"Not  a  word !"  rapped  his  assailant,  "or  I'll  knock 
you  out !" 

Stuart  glared  into  the  red  face  lowered  so  threat- 
eningly over  his  own,  and  : 

"Sergeant  Sowerby !"  he  gasped. 

The  grip  upon  his  shoulders  relaxed. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  STUART     289 

"Damn !"  cried  Sowerby— "if  it  isn't  Dr.  Stuart?" 

"What  is  that!"  cried  another  voice  from  the 
shelter  of  the  bush.  "Pardieu!  say  it  again!  .  .  . 
Dr.  Stuart!" 

And  Gaston  Max  sprang  out ! 

"Max !"  murmured  Stuart,  staggering  to  his  feet 
—"Max !" 

"Nom  d'un  nom!  Two  dead  men  meet!"  ex- 
claimed Gaston  Max.  "But  indeed" — he  grasped 
Stuart  by  both  hands  and  his  voice  shook  with  emo- 
tion— "I  thank  God  that  I  see  you !" 

Stuart  was  dazed.  Words  failed  him,  and  he 
swayed  dizzily. 

"I  thought  you  were  murdered,"  said  Max,  still 
grasping  his  hand,  "and  I  perceive  that  you  had 
made  the  same  mistake  about  me!  Do  you  know 
what  saved  me,  my  friend,  from  the  consequences 
of  that  frightful  blow?  It  was  the  bandage  of 
'Le  Balafre' !" 

"You  must  possess  a  skull  like  a  negro's!"  said 
Stuart  feebly. 

"I  believe  I  have  a  skull  like  a  baboon !"  returned 
Max,  laughing  with  joyous  excitement.  "And  you, 
doctor,  you  must  possess  a  steel  wind-pipe ;  for  flesh 
and  blood  could  never  have  survived  the  pressure 
of  that  horrible  pigtail.  You  will  rejoice  to  learn 
that  Miguel  was  arrested  on  the  Dover  boat-train 
this  morning  and  Ah-Fang-Fu  at  Tilbury  Dock  som« 
four  hours  ago.  So  we  are  both  avenged!  But 
we  waste  time  I" 


290  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

He  unscrewed  a  flask  and  handed  it  to  Stuart. 

"A  terrible  experience  has  befallen  you,"  he  said. 
"But  tell  me — do  you  know  where  it  is — the  lair 
of  The  Scorpion'?" 

"I  do!"  replied  Stuart,  having  taken  a  welcome 
draught  from  the  flask.  "Where  is  Dunbar?  We 
must  carefully  surround  the  place  or  he  will  elude 
us." 

"Ah!  as  he  eluded  us  at  'The  Pidgin  House'!" 
cried  Max.  "Do  you  know  what  happened?  They 
had  a  motor-boat  in  the  very  cellar  of  that  warren. 
At  high  tide  they  could  creep  out  into  the  cutting, 
drawing  their  craft  along  from  pile  to  pile,  and 
reach  the  open  river  at  a  point  fifty  yards  above  the 
house!  In  the  damnable  darkness  they  escaped. 
But  we  have  two  of  them." 

"It  was  all  my  fault,"  said  Sowerby  guiltily.  "I 
missed  my  spring  when  I  went  for  the  Chinaman 
who  came  out  first,  and  he  gave  one  yell.  The  old 
fox  in  the  shop  heard  it  and  the  fat  was  in  the  fire." 

"You  didn't  miss  your  spring  at  me!"  retorted 
Stuart  ruefully. 

"No,"  agreed  Sowerby.  "I  didn't  mean  to  miss  a 
second  time !" 

"What's  all  this  row,"  came  a  gruff  voice. 

"Ah !  Inspector  Dunbar !"  said  Max. 

Dunbar  walked  up  the  path,  followed  by  a  number 
of  men.  At  first  he  did  not  observe  Stuart,  and : 

"You'll  be  waking  all  the  neighborhood,"  he  said. 
"It's  the  next  big  house,  Sowerby,  the  one  we 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  STUART     391 

thought,  surrounded  by  the  brick  wall.  There's  nc 
doubt,  I  think.  .  .  .  Why !" 

He  had  seen  Stuart,  and  he  sprang  forward  witt 
outstretched  hand. 

'Thank  God!"  he  cried,  disregarding  his  OWE 
counsel  about  creating  a  disturbance.  "This  is 
fine !  Eh,  man  !  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you !" 

"And  /  am  glad  to  be  here !"  Stuart  assured  him 

They  shook  hands  warmly. 

"You  have  read  my  statement,  of  course?"  asked 
Stuart. 

"I  have,"  replied  the  Inspector,  and  gave  him  a 
swift  glance  of  the  tawny  eyes.  "And  considering 
that  you've  nearly  been  strangled,  I'll  forgive  you! 
But  I  wish  we'd  known  about  this  house " 

"Ah!  Inspector,"  interrupted  Gaston  Max,  "but 
you  have  never  seen  Zara  el-Khala!  I  have  seen 
her — and  /  forgive  him,  also!" 

Stuart  continued  rapidly : 

"We  have  little  time  to  waste.  There  are  only 
three  people  in  the  house,  so  far  as  I  am  aware: 
Miska — known  to  you,  M.  Max,  as  Zara  el-Khala — 
the  Hindu,  Chunda  Lai,  and — Fo-Hi " 

"Ah !"  cried  Max—"  The  Scorpion' !" 

"Exactly,  The  Scorpion.'  Chunda  Lai,  for  some 
obscure  personal  reason,  not  entirely  unconnected 
with  Miska,  enabled  me  to  make  my  escape  in  order 
that  I  might  lead  you  to  the  house.  Therefore  we 
may  look  upon  Chunda  Lai,  as  well  as  Miska,  in 
the  light  of  an  accomplice " 


292  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

"Eh  bien!  a  spy  in  the  camp!  This  is  where  we 
see  how  fatal  to  the  success  of  any  enterprise, 
criminal  or  otherwise,  is  the  presence  of  a  pretty 
woman!  Proceed,  my  friend!" 

"There  are  three  entrances  to  the  apartment  in 
which  Fo-Hi  apparently  spends  the  greater  part  of 
his  time.  Two  of  these  I  know,  although  I  am  un- 
aware where  one  of  them  leads  to.  But  the  third, 
of  which  he  alone  holds  the  key,  communicates  with 
a  tunnel  leading  to  the  river  bank,  where  a  motor- 
boat  is  concealed." 

"Ah,  that  motor-boat !"  cried  Max.  "He  travels 
at  night,  you  understand " 

"Always,  I  am  told." 

"Yes,  always.  Therefore,  once  he  is  out  on  the 
river,  he  is  moderately  secure  between  the  first  lock 
and  the  Nore !  When  a  police  patrol  is  near  he  can 
shut  off  his  engine  and  lie  under  the  bank.  Last 
night  he  crept  away  from  us  in  that  fashion.  To- 
night is  not  so  dark,  and  the  River  Police  are  watch- 
ing all  the  way  down." 

"Furthermore,"  replied  Stuart,  "Chunda  Lai,  who 
acts  as  engineer,  has  it  in  his  power  to  prevent  Fo- 
Hi's  escape  by  that  route !  But  we  must  count  upon 
the  possibility  of  his  attempting  to  leave  by  water. 
Therefore,  in  disposing  your  forces,  place  a  certain 
number  of  men  along  the  bank  and  below  the  house. 
Is  there  a  River  Police  boat  near  ?" 

"Not  nearer  than  Putney  Bridge,"  answered 
Dunbar.  "We  shall  have  to  try  and  block  that  exit." 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  STUART     293 

"There's  no  time  to  waste,"  continued  Stuart  ex- 
citedly— "and  I  have  a  very  particular  request  vo 
make :  that  you  will  take  Fo-Hi  alive." 

"But  of  course,"  said  Gaston  Max,  "if  it  is 
humanly  possible." 

Stuart  repressed  a  groan ;  for  even  so  he  had  little 
hope  of  inducing  the  awful  veiled  man  to  give  back 
life  to  the  woman  who  would  have  been  in- 
otrumental  in  bringing  him  to  the  scaffold  .  .  .  and 
no  compromise  was  possible ! 

"If  you  will  muster  your  men,  Inspector,"  he  said, 
"I  will  lead  you  to  the  spot.  Once  we  have  affected 
an  entrance  we  must  proceed  with  dispatch.  He  has 
alarm-bells  connected  with  every  possible  point  of 
entry." 

"Lead  on,  my  friend,"  cried  Gaston  Max.  "I 
perceive  that  time  is  precious." 


CHAPTER  VI 

"JEY  BHOWANl!" 

AS  the  door  closed  upon  Chunda  Lai,  Miska 
stepped  back  from  it  and  stood,  uncon- 
sciously, in  a  curiously  rigid  and  statuesque 
attitude,  her  arms  pressed  to  her  sides  and  her 
hands  directed  outward.  It  was  the  physical  ex- 
pression of  an  intense  mental  effort  to  gain  control 
of  herself.  Her  heart  was  leaping  wildly  in  her 
breast — for  the  future  that  had  held  only  horror 
and  a  living  tomb,  now  opened  out  sweetly  before 
her.  She  had  only  to  ply  her  native  wiles  for  a  few 
precious  moments  .  .  .  and  someone  would  have 
her  in  his  arms,  to  hold  her  safe  from  harm!  If 
the  will  of  the  awful  Chinaman  threatened  to  swamp 
her  individuality,  then — there  was  Chunda  Lai. 

But  because  of  his  helpless,  unselfish  love,  she 
hesitated  even  at  the  price  of  remaining  alone  again 
with  Fo-Hi,  to  demand  any  further  sacrifice  of  the 
Hindu.  Furthermore — he  might  fail ! 

The  lacquer  door  slid  noiselessly  open  and  Fo-Hi 
entered.  He  paused,  watching  her. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  in  that  low-pitched  voice  which 
was  so  terrifying — "a  ghasiyeh  of  Ancient  Egypt! 
How  beautiful  you  are,  Miska!  You  transport  me 
to  the  court  of  golden  Pharaoh.  Miska!  daughter 

294 


"JEY  BHOWANI!"  295 

of  the  moon-magic  of  Isis — Zara  el-Khala !  At  any 
hour  my  enemies  may  be  clamoring  at  my  doors. 
But  this  hour  is  mine !" 

He  moved  at  his  customary  slow  gait  to  the  table, 
took  up  the  keys  .  .  .  and  locked  both  doors ! 

Miska,  perceiving  in  this  her  chance  of  aid  from 
Chunda  Lai  utterly  destroyed,  sank  slowly  upon  the 
diwan,  her  pale  face  expressing  the  utmost  con- 
sternation. Suppose  the  police  did  not  come ! 

Fo-Hi  dropped  the  keys  on  the  table  again  and 
approached  her.  She  stood  up,  retreating  before 
him.  He  inhaled  sibilantly  and  paused. 

"So  your  'acceptance'  was  only  a  trick,"  he  said. 
"Your  loathing  of  my  presence  is  as  strong  as  ever. 
Well !"  At  the  word,  as  a  volcano  leaps  into  life, 
the  hidden  fires  which  burned  within  this  terrible 
man  leapt  up  consumingly — "if  the  gift  of  the  flower 
is  withheld,  at  least  I  will  grasp  the  Dead  Sea 
Fruit!" 

He  leapt  toward  Miska — and  she  fled  shrieking 
before  him.  Running  around  a  couch  which  stood 
near  the  centre  of  the  room,  she  sprang  to  the  door 
and  beat  upon  it  madly. 

"Chunda  Lai !"  she  cried— "Chunda  Lai  I" 

Fo-Hi  was  close  upon  her,  and  she  turned  striving 
to  elude  him. 

"Oh,  merciful  God !    Chunda  Lai!" 

The  name  burst  from  her  lips  in  a  long  frenzied 
scream.  Fo-Hi  had  seized  her ! 

Grasping  her  shoulders,  he  twisted  her  about  so 


296  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

that  he  could  look  into  her  eyes.  A  low,  shuddering 
cry  died  away,  and  her  gaze  became  set,  hyp- 
notically, upon  Fo-Hi.  He  raised  one  hand,  fingers 
outstretched  before  her.  She  swayed  slightly. 

"Forget!"  he  said  in  a  deep,  guttural  voice  of 
command — "forget.  I  will  it.  We  stand  in  an 
empty  world,  you  and  I ;  you,  Miska«  and  I,  Fo-Hi, 
your  master." 

"My  master,"  she  whispered  mechanically. 

"Your  lover." 

"My  lover." 

"You  give  me  your  life,  to  do  with  as  I  will." 

"As  you  will." 

Fo-Hi  momentarily  raised  the  blazing  eyes. 

"Oh,  empty  shell  of  a  vanished  joy !"  he  cried. 

Then,  frenziedly  grasping  Miska  by  her  arms,  he 
glared  into  her  impassive  face. 

"Your  heart  leaps  wildly  in  your  breast!"  he 
whispered  tenderly.  "Look  into  my  eyes.  ..." 

Miska  sighed  and  opened  her  eyes  yet  more 
widely.  She  shuddered  and  a  slow  smile  appeared 
upon  her  lips. 

The  lacquer  screen  making  the  window  was  pushed 
open  and  Chunda  Lai  leapt  in  over  the  edge.  As 
Fo-Hi  drew  the  yielding,  hypnotised  girl  towards 
him,  Chunda-Lal,  a  gleaming  kukri  held  aloft,  ran 
with  a  silent  panther  step  across  the  floor. 

He  reached  Fo-Hi,  drew  himself  upright;  the 
glittering  blade  quivered  .  .  .  and  Fo-Hi  divined 
his  presence. 


"JEY  BHOWANI !"  297 

Uttering  a  short,  guttural  exclamation,  he  thrust 
Miska  aside.  She  staggered  dazedly  and  fell  prone 
upon  the  floor.  The  quivering  blade  did  not  descend. 

Fo-Hi  drew  himself  rigidly  upright,  extending  his 
hands,  palms  downward,  before  him.  He  was  ex- 
erting a  superhuman  effort.  The  breath  whistled 
through  his  nostrils.  Chunda  Lai,  knife  upraised, 
endeavored  to  strike;  but  his  arm  seemed  to  have 
become  incapable  of  movement  and  to  be  held,  help- 
less, aloft. 

Staring  at  the  rigid  figure  before  him,  he  began  to 
pant  like  a  man  engaged  in  a  wrestle  for  life. 

Fo-Hi  stretched  his  right  arm  outward,  and  with 
a  gesture  of  hand  and  fingers  beckoned  to  Chunda 
Lai  to  come  before  him. 

And  now,  Miska,  awakening  as  from  a  fevered 
dream,  looked  wildly  about  her,  and  then,  serpentine, 
began  to  creep  to  the  table  upon  which  the  keys  were 
lying.  Always  watching  the  awful  group  of  two, 
she  rose  slowly,  snatched  the  keys  and  leapt  across 
to  the  open  window.  .  .  . 

Chunda  Lai,  swollen  veins  standing  out  cord-like 
on  his  brow,  his  gaze  set  hynotically  upon  the  mov- 
ing hand,  dropped  his  knife  and  began  to  move  in 
obedience  to  the  will  of  Fo-Hi. 

As  he  came  finally  face  to  face  with  the  terrible 
Adept  of  Rache  Churan,  Miska  disappeared  into  the 
shadow  of  the  balcony.  Fo-Hi  by  an  imperious 
gesture  commanded  Chunda  Lai  to  kneel  and  bow 
his  head.  The  Hindu,  gasping,  obeyed. 


298  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

Thereupon  Fo-Hi  momentarily  relaxed  his  giant 
concentration  and  almost  staggered  as  he  glared 
down  at  the  kneeling  man.  But  never  was  that 
dreadful  gaze  removed  from  Chunda  Lai.  And  now 
the  veiled  man  drew  himself  rigidly  upright  again 
and  stepped  backward  until  the  fallen  kukri  lay  at 
his  feet.  He  spoke,  "Chunda  Lai!" 

The  Hindu  rose,  gazing  before  him  with  unseeing 
eyes.  His  forehead  was  wet  with  perspiration. 

Fo-Hi  pointed  to  the  knife. 

Chunda  Lai,  without  removing  his  sightless  gaze 
from  the  veiled  face,  stooped,  groped  until  he  found 
the  knife  and  rose  with  it  in  his  hand. 

Back  stepped  Fo-Hi,  and  back,  until  he  could 
touch  the  big  table.  He  moved  a  brass  switch — and 
a  trap  opened  in  the  floor  behind  Chunda  Lai.  Fo- 
Hi  raised  his  right  hand,  having  the  fingers  tightly 
closed  as  if  grasping  the  hilt  of  a  knife.  With  his 
left  hand  he  pointed  to  the  trap.  Again  he  spoke. 

"Turn  samajhe  ho?" 

Mechanically  Chunda  Lai  replied: 

"Ah,  Sahib,  tumhara  huken  jaldi:  kiyd  jaegd." 
(Yes,  I  hear  and  obey.) 

As  Fo-Hi  raised  his  clenched  right  hand,  so  did 
Chunda  Lai  raise  the  kukri.  Fo-Hi  extended  his 
left  hand  rigidly  towards  the  Hindu  and  seemed  to 
force  him,  step  by  step,  back  towards  the  open  trap- 
Almost  at  the  brink,  Chunda  Lai  paused,  swayed, 
and  began  to  utter  short,  agonised  cries.  Froth  ap- 
peared upon  his  lips. 


"JEY  BHOWANI!"  299 

Raising  his  right  hand  yet  further  aloft,  Fo-Hi 
swiftly  brought  it  down,  performing  the  gesture  of 
stabbing  himself  to  the  heart.  His  ghastly  reserve 
deserted  him. 

"Jey  Bhowana!"  he  screamed — "Yah  Allah!" 

Chunda  Lai,  uttering  a  loud  groan,  stabbed  him- 
self and  fell  backward  into  the  opening.  Ensued  a 
monstrous  crash  of  broken  glass. 

As  he  fell,  Fo-Hi  leapt  to  the  brink  of  the  trap, 
glaring  down  madly  into  the  cellar  below.  His 
yellow  fingers  opened  and  closed  spasmodically. 

"Lie  there,"  he  shrieked — "my  'faithful'  servant ! 
The  ants  shall  pick  your  bones !" 

He  grasped  the  upstanding  door  of  the  trap  and 
closed  it.  It  descended  with  a  reverberating  boom. 
Fo-Hi  raised  his  clenched  fists  and  stepped  to  the 
door.  Finding  it  locked,  he  stood  looking  toward 
the  open  screen  before  the  window. 

"Miska !"  he  whispered  despairingly. 

He  crossed  to  the  window  and  was  about  to  look 
out,  when  a  high-pitched  electric  bell  began  to  ring 
in  the  room. 

Instantly  Fo-Hi  closed  the  screen  and  turned, 
looking  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  sound  of 
ringing  proceeded.  As  he  did  so,  a  second  bell,  in 
another  key,  began  to  ring — a  third — a  fourth. 

Momentarily  the  veiled  man  exhibited  evidence 
of  indecision.  Then,  from  beneath  his  robe  he  took 
a  small  key.  Approaching  an  ornate  cabinet  set 
against  the  wall  to  the  left  of  one  of  the  lacquer 


3co  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

doors,  he  inserted  the  key  in  a  hidden  lock,  and  slid 
the  entire  cabinet  partly  aside  revealing  an  opening. 

Fo-Hi  bent,  peering  down  into  the  darkness  of  the 
passage  below.  A  muffled  report  came,  a  flash  out 
of  the  blackness  of  the  river  tunnel,  and  a  bullet 
passed  through  the  end  of  the  cabinet  upon  which 
his  hand  was  resting,  smashing  an  ivory  statuette 
and  shattering  the  glass. 

Hurriedly  he  slid  the  cabinet  into  place  again  and 
stood  with  his  back  to  it,  arms  outstretched. 

"Miska!"  he  said — and  a  note  of  yet  deeper 
despair  had  crept  into  the  harsh  voice. 

Awhile  he  stood  thus ;  then  he  drew  himself  up 
with  dignity.  The  bells  had  ceased. 

Methodically  Fo-Hi  began  to  take  certain  books 
from  the  shelves  and  to  cast  them  into  the  great 
metal  bowl  which  stood  upon  the  tripod.  Into  the 
bowl  he  poured  the  contents  of  a  large  glass  jar. 
Flames  and  clouds  of  smoke  arose.  He  paused, 
listening. 

Confused  voices  were  audible,  seemingly  from  all 
around  him,  together  with  a  sound  of  vague  move' 
meats. 

Fo-Hi  took  up  vials  and  jars  and  dashed  them  to 
pieces  upon  the  tiled  hearth  in  which  the  furnace 
rested.  Test-tubes,  flasks  and  retorts  he  shattered, 
and  finally,  raising  the  large  glass  case  of  orchids  he 
dashed  it  down  amid  the  debris  of  the  other  name- 
less and  priceless  monstrosities  unknown  to  Western 
science. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  WAY  OF  A  SCORPION 

A   BLACK  cloud  swept  past  the  face  of  the 
moon  and  cold  illumination  flooded  the  nar- 
row lane  and  patched  with  light  the  drive 
leading  up  to  the  front  of  the  isolated  mansion. 
Wrought-iron  gates  closed  both  entrances  and  a 
high  wall,  surmounted  by  broken  glass  and  barbed 
wire,  entirely  surrounded  the  grounds. 

"This  one  also  is  locked,"  said  Gaston  Max,  try- 
ing the  gate  and  then  peering  through  the  bars  in 
the  direction  of  the  gloomy  house. 

All  the  visible  windows  were  shuttered.  No  ray 
of  light  showed  anywhere.  The  house  must  have 
been  pronounced  deserted  by  anyone  contemplat- 
ing it. 

"Upon  which  side  do  you  suppose  the  big  room 
to  be?"  asked  Max. 

"It  is  difficult  to  judge,"  replied  Stuart.  "But  I 
am  disposed  to  believe  that  it  Is  in  the  front  of  the 
house  and  on  the  first  floor,  for  I  traversed  a  long 
corridor,  descended  several  stairs,  turned  to  the 
right  and  emerged  in  a  part  of  the  garden  bordering 
the  lane  in  which  Inspector  Kelly  is  posted." 

"I  was  thinking  of  the  window  and  the  balcony 
which  'The  Scorpion'  informed  you  commanded  a 

301 


302          THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

view  of  Hampton  Court.  Hampton  Court,"  he 
turned  half-left,  "lies  about  yonder.  Therefore  you 
are  probably  right,  doctor;  the  room  as  you  say 
should  be  in  front  of  the  house.  Since  we  do  not 
know  how  to  disconnect  the  alarms,  once  we  have 
entered  the  grounds  it  is  important  that  we  should 
gain  access  to  the  house  immediately.  Ah  I  morbleu! 
the  moon  disappears  again !" 

Darkness  crept  over  the  countryside. 

"There  is  an  iron  balcony  jutting  out  amongst 
the  ivy  just  above  and  to  the  right  of  the  porch!" 
cried  Stuart,  who  had  also  been  peering  up  the 
moon-patched  drive.  "I  would  wager  that  that  is 
the  room !" 

"Ah!"  replied  Max,  "I  believe  you  are  right. 
This,  then,  is  how  we  shall  proceed:  Inspector 
Kelly,  with  the  aid  of  two  men,  can  get  over  the 
wall  near  that  garden  door  by  which  you  came  out. 
If  they  cannot  force  it  from  inside,  you  also  must 
get  over  and  lead  the  way  to  the  entrance  you  know 
of.  Sowerby  and  two  more  men  will  remain  to 
watch  the  lane.  The  river  front  is  well  guarded. 
We  will  post  a  man  here  at  this  gate  and  one  at  the 
other.  Dunbar  and  I  will  climb  this  one  and  rush 
straight  for  that  balcony  which  we  must  hope  to 
reach  by  climbing  up  the  ivy.  Ah !  here  comes  In- 
spector Dunbar  .  .  .  and  someone  is  with  him !" 

Dunbar  appeared  at  the  double  around  the  corner 
of  the  lane  which  led  riverward,  and  beside  him  ran 
a  girl  who  presented  a  bizarre  figure  beside  the  gaunt 


THE  WAY  OF  A  SCORPION         303 

Scotsman  and  a  figure  wildly  out  of  place  in  that 
English  riverside  setting. 

It  was  Miska,  arrayed  in  her  flimsy  har$m  dress ! 

"Miska!"  cried  Stuart,  and  sprang  towards  her, 
sweeping  her  hungrily  into  his  arms — forgetful  of, 
indifferent  to,  the  presence  of  Max  and  Dunbar. 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  Frenchman — "yes,  she  is 
beautiful  I" 

Trembling  wildly,  Miska  clung  to  Stuart  and  be- 
gan to  speak,  her  English  more  broken  than  ever, 
because  of  her  emotion. 

"Listen — quick !"  she  panted.  "Oh !  do  not  hold 
me  so  tight.  I  have  all  the  house-keys — look!" — 
she  held  up  a  bunch  of  keys — "but  not  the  keys  of 
the  gates.  Two  men  have  gone  to  the  end  of  the 
tunnel  where  the  boat  is  hid  beside  the  river.  Some- 
one— he  better  climb  this  gate  and  by  the  ivy  he  can 
reach  the  room  in  which  Fo-Hi  is !  I  come  down  so. 
You  do  not  see  me  because  the  moon  goes  out  and  I 
run  to  the  side-door.  It  is  open.  You  come  with 
me!" 

She  clung  to  Stuart,  looking  up  into  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  yes,  Miska!" 

"Oh!  Chunda  Lai!" — she  choked  down  a  sob. 
"Be  quick!  be  quick!  He  will  kill  him!  he  will 
kill  him!" 

"Off  you  go,  doctor !"  cried  Max.  "Come  along, 
Dunbar!" 

He  began  to  climb  the  ironwork  of  the  gate. 

"This  way !"  said  Miska,  dragging  Stuart  by  thfl 


304  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

arm.     "Oh!  I  am  wild  with  fear  and  sorrow  and 
joy!" 

"With  joy,  dear  little  Miska!"  whispered  Stuart, 
as  he  followed  her. 

They  passed  around  the  bend  into  the  narrower 
lane  which  led  towards  the  river  and  upon  which 
the  garden-door  opened.  Stuart  detained  her.  If 
the  fate  of  the  whole  world  had  hung  in  the  balance 
— as,  indeed,  perhaps  it  did — he  could  not  have 
acted  otherwise.  He  raised  her  bewitching  face  and 
kissed  her  ardently. 

She  trembled  and  clung  to  him  rapturously. 

"I  live!"  she  whispered.  "Oh!  I  am  mad  with 
happiness!  It  is  Chunda  Lai  that  gives  me  life — 
for  he  tells  me  the  truth.  It  is  not  with  the  living- 
death  that  he  touches  me;  it  is  a  trick,  it  is  all  & 
trick  to  bind  me  to  him !  Oh,  Chunda  Lai !  Hurry ! 
he  is  going  to  kill  him !" 

But  supreme  above  all  the  other  truths  in  the 
world,  the  joyous  truth  that  Miska  was  to  live  set 
Stuart's  heart  on  fire. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said  fervently— "oh,  thank 
God!  Miska!" 

At  the  garden-door  a  group  of  men  awaited  them. 
Sergeant  Sowerby  and  two  assistants  remaining  to 
watch  the  entrance  and  the  lane,  Miska  led  Stuart 
and  the  burly  Inspector  Kelly  along  that  path  beside 
the  wall  which  Stuart  so  well  remembered. 

"Hurry!"  she  whispered  urgently.  "We  must 
trv  to  reach  him  before  ..." 


THE  WAY  OF  A  SCORPION         305 

"You  fear  for  Chunda  Lai  ?"  said  Stuart. 

"Oh,  yes!  He  has  a  terrible  power — Fo-Hi— 
which  he  never  employs  with  me,  until  to-night. 
Ah !  it  is  only  Chunda  Lai,  who  saved  me !  But 
Chunda  Lai  he  can  command  with  his  Will.  From 
it,  once  he  has  made  anyone  a  slave  to  it,  there  is  no 
escape.  I  have  seen  one  in  the  city  of  Quebec,  in 
Canada,  forget  all  else  and  begin  to  act  in  obedience 
to  the  will  of  Fo-Hi  who  is  thousands  of  miles 
away !" 

"My  God!"  murmured  Siuart,  "what  a  horrible 
monster  1" 

They  had  reached  the  open  door  beyond  which 
showed  the  dimly  lighted  passage.  Miska  hesitated. 

"Oh !  I  am  afraid !"  she  whispered. 

She  thrust  the  keys  into  the  hand  of  Inspector 
Kelly,  pointing  to  one  of  them,  and : 

"That  is  the  key!"  she  said.  "Have  your  pistol 
ready.  Do  not  touch  anything  in  the  room  and  do 
not  go  in  if  I  tell  you  not  to.  Come !" 

They  pressed  along  the  passage,  came  to  the  stair 
and  were  about  to  ascend,  when  there  ensued  a  dull 
reverberating  boom,  and  Miska  shrank  back  into 
Stuart's  arms  with  a  stifled  shriek. 

"Oh,  Chunda  Lai!"  she  moaned— "Chunda  Lai  I 
It  is  the  trap !" 

"The  trap !"  said  Inspector  Kelly. 

"The  cellar  trap.  He  has  thrown  him  down  .  .  . 
to  the  ants !" 

Inspector  Kelly  uttered  a  short  laugh ;  but  Stuart 


3o6  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

repressed  a  shudder.  He  was  never  likely  to  forget 
the  skeleton  of  the  Nubian  mute  which  had  been 
stripped  by  the  ants  in  sixty-nine  minutes ! 

"We  are  too  late!"  whispered  Miska.  "Oh! 
listen !  listen !" 

Bells  began  to  ring  somewhere  above  them. 

"Max  and  Dunbar  are  in !"  said  Kelly.  "Come 
on,  sir !  Follow  closely,  boys !" 

He  ran  up  the  stairs  and  along  the  corridor  to  the 
door  at  the  end. 

A  muffled  shot  sounded  from  somewhere  in  the 
depths  of  the  house. 

"That's  Harvey!"  said  one  of  the  men  who  fol- 
lowed— "Our  man  must  have  tried  to  escape  by  the 
tunnel  to  the  river  bank !" 

Inspector  Kelly  placed  the  key  in  the  lock  of  the 
door. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Gaston  Max,  climbing 
up  to  the  front  balcony  by  means  of  the  natural 
ladder  afforded  by  the  ancient  ivy,  grasped  the  iron 
railing  and  drew  himself  up  to  the  level  of  the  room. 
By  this  same  stairway  Chunda  Lai  had  ascended  to 
death  and  Miska  had  climbed  down  to  life. 

"Mind  the  ironwork  doesn't  give  way,  sir !"  called 
Dunbar  from  below. 

"It  is  strong,"  replied  Max.  "Join  me  here,  my 
friend." 

Max,  taking  a  magazine  pistol  from  his  pocket, 
stepped  warily  over  the  ledge  into  the  mysterious 
half-light  behind  the  great  screen.  As  he  did  so, 


THE  WAY  OF  A  SCORPION         307 

one  of  the  lacquer  doors  was  unlocked  from  the  out- 
side, and  across  the  extraordinary,  smoke-laden 
room  he  saw  Inspector  Kelly  enter.  He  saw  some- 
thing else. 

Seated  in  a  strangely-shaped  canopied  chair  was 
a  figure  wearing  a  rich  mandarin  robe,  but  having 
its  face  covered  with  a  green  veil. 

"Man  Dieu!  at  last!"  he  cried,  and  leapt  into  the 
room.  "  'The  Scorpion'  1" 

Even  as  he  leapt,  and  as  the  Scotland  Yard  men 
closed  in  upon  the  chair  also,  all  of  them  armed  and 
all  half  fearful,  a  thing  happened  which  struck  awe 
to  every  heart — for  it  seemed  to  be  supernatural. 

Raising  a  metal  hammer  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  Fo-Hi  struck  the  bronze  bell  hung  beside  the 
chair.  It  emitted  a  deep,  loud  note.  .  .  . 

There  came  a  flash  of  blinding  light,  an  intense 
crackling  sound,  the  crash  of  broken  glass,  and  a 
dense  cloud  of  pungent  fumes  rose  in  the  heated  air. 

Dunbar  had  just  climbed  in  behind  Gaston  Max. 
Both  were  all  but  hurled  from  their  feet  by  the  force 
of  the  explosion.  Then : 

"Oh,  my  God!"  cried  Dunbar,  staggering,  half 
blinded,  "look— look!" 

A  deathly  silence  claimed  them  all.  Just  within 
the  doorway  Stuart  appeared,  having  his  arm  about 
the  shoulders  of  Miska. 

The  Throne  of  the  Gods  was  empty!  A  thin 
coating  of  grey  dust  was  settling  upon  it  and  upon 
the  dais  which  supported  it. 


308  THE  GOLDEN  SCORPION 

They  had  witnessed  a  scientific  miracle  .  .  .  the 
complete  and  instantaneous  disintegration  of  a 
human  body.  Gaston  Max  was  the  first  to  recovei 
speech. 

"We  are  defeated,"  he  said.  "  'The  Scorpion, 
surrounded,  destroys  himself.  It  is  the  way  of  a 
scorpion." 

THE  END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


•URL' 

1973 


WS 


AA    000382703    i 


3  1158  00013  4576 


